


Violin Strings and Awful Things

by bookcases



Series: The Ida Atlas Elizabeth Holmes Collection [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Father-Daughter Relationship, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:34:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 39
Words: 66,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24520906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookcases/pseuds/bookcases
Summary: She knew her file read:Ida Atlas Elizabeth Holmes. Born in Edinburgh, 2003. Mother unknown. Father in London. Experiences Non Epileptic Seizures (NES). No contact with parents.But she didn't know it read:Potentially dangerous to those around her. Difficult to set up for adoption. Turbulent.BAD LANGUAGE THROUGHOUT
Relationships: John Watson & Rosamund Mary "Rosie" Watson, Sherlock Holmes & John Watson & Rosamund Mary "Rosie" Watson, Sherlock Holmes & Mrs. Hudson & John Watson, Sherlock Holmes & Rosamund Mary "Rosie" Watson, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Series: The Ida Atlas Elizabeth Holmes Collection [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1776367
Kudos: 21





	1. Meeting Him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you post any of this story somewhere, please give credit.
> 
> So this whole story is pretty rubbish to be honest. Inaccurate to the characters, real life situations but it is what it is. If you can stand that, then hang around.

THE hand of a girl lingered momentarily, inches from the wooden door of 221B. Dark brown curls hung next to her face as a pair of blue eyes peered through round spectacles. There was no mistaking who this girl could be, not even the dumbest person could ignore the hair and especially as she stood outside the very house with said person inside. Her closed hand made contact with the wood and a loud knock echoed through the building. An older woman of around 70 answered the door, smiling when she saw the girl.

She couldn't help but deduce so many things about the woman. How she had property somewhere expensive, most likely central london and that she had a lot of money sitting in the pot. Drug dealer husband, although now widowed... _happily._ Loved rock music judging by the collection of records on the shelf and how she hoovers the front entrance daily due to constant traffic.

"I know who you are here to see." She said kindly before reaching a hand out to take the girls. The girl with the curls took it before announcing her name. 

"Atlas." She said as she tucked a piece of curly brown hair behind her ears and repositioned her glasses. Her cheeks blushed as she said her name, cursing under her breath. Atlas was supposedly a boy's name, although she's said on several occasions, it could easily fit a girl.

_"What a lovely_ name." The older lady said, somewhat not sure what to think of the name. "Mrs Hudson." She said introducing herself, before motioning for her to go up the stairs. So much of her life already had been building up to this moment, the moment she would meet her father. Normally you would assume that a girl would search her mother, but when your said mother is in a psych hospital somewhere in the middle of the ocean, there is very little to go on. In her mind, she didn't want her mother in her life, she just wanted someone, _anyone,_ to give a damn about her. 

For so long the young girl had been shuffled from one home to the next, never quite being given what she needed. Now, many puzzle piece's missing she hoped that this would make a change. 

Mrs Hudson followed her up the stairs and knocked on the door of what the girl assumed to be the flat. 

"Sherlock. We have a -" 

"We don't get visitor's unless it's Lestrade." A voice replied as something was heard bubbling in the room next door. 

"He's right. However may-" A different man to that who had spoken stood in the door to the flat, not hiding his expression of surprise mixed with amusement. The girl smiled at him as her blue eyes held his own for a few moments.

"Uhh...Sherlock." The man said. It must be Dr John Watson, the man who writes the blog's on Sherlock's webpage. The way he was standing suggested Iraq or Afghanistan due to the fact he was leaning slightly heavier on one of his legs. However, she knew this was psychosomatic and that it was actually his shoulder judging by the way he kept positioning his arm. She made a mental note to ask him later. 

Sherlock reluctantly put down what he was working on and made his way to the door. His eyes went wide and his lips were pursed as he looked at the girl in some sort of awe. 

"Atlas." She said presenting a hand to the man before he took it. She shook it lightly while reading the man and she began to curse herself. _Not the time._ However she couldn't help it and she learned rather a lot about the man she was stood opposite. 

"I won't be taking your case." Sherlock said somewhat bitterly before beginning to close the door. Mrs Hudson being the bad ass she was stuck her foot in the way and Sherlock frowned at her. 

"Let her in Sherlock. You know fine well she's not a client. If she was a client I would have said 'Sherlock! You have another one.' But did I say that?" Mrs Hudson said somewhat sassily. Her hands drawing to her waist, here eyes meeting Sherlock's beaten look. "No. I didn't think I had."

"Plus I really need to ask your friend a question." Atlas added as Sherlock reluctantly opened the door the entire room finally being revealed. Collected dust lingered on many surfaces and Atlas grimaced as she smelt hair burning. Round the corner she could just see some sort of chemical compound in the middle of being formed and she smiled. Maybe this was the right place to come looking. 

"Come on then. What's your question?" Sherlock asked his eyes analysing every detail about her. He too was learning much about the girl however she did well at not showing any emotion on her face or anywhere else. 

"Dr Watson?" Atlas asked as Mrs Hudson's eyes went wide at realisation. She hadn't told the girl that his name was John Watson or that he was a doctor. And she'd been with the girl since she arrived. Though she put it down to the fact she may have researched them. "Afghanistan or Iraq?" 

Sherlock shared a look with John before giving the answer. Atlas nodded understanding, clearly Sherlock was on to who she was. 

"It was nice to meet you." Atlas said reaching out a hand to Dr Watson which he took gladly. However he didn't let go. 

"I'm going to make a deduction and your going to tell me if I'm right Sherlock." John announced before letting go of the girl's hand. Sherlock looked at him expectantly before Atlas managed to say something.

"Your right. Whatever your thinking is right Dr Watson. Yes. Your theory is correct, and yours Mrs Hudson." Atlas said aiming the last section in Mrs Hudson's direction as she leaned against the door frame. 

"But I -" 

"When I entered you said 'I know who your here to see.'" Atlas explained. "Your right."

"Am I missing something?" Sherlock asked nochantly before John sniggered. Sherlock did in fact know, he wasn't stupid. For God's sake the last time he was with her she was seven. 

"Don't over think it." Atlas replied laughing slightly under breath before her own blue eyes met his. And then she watched as the lightbulb of realisation illuminated. "There you go." 

"Nope. I refuse to believe it." Sherlock exclaimed before darting into the kitchen.

"I'll come back some other time. I'll be at Books & Beans on Brubeck street until he wants to speak." Atlas announced before picking up her large backpack and satchel and leaving the room. Atlas darted down the stairs, brushing away tears as they threatened, then fell from her eyes. 

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

"SHERLOCK your such an ass." Mrs Hudson announced as she watched the man standing in the kitchen.

"She didn't say the words. They didn't come out her mouth. She is not my daughter." Sherlock stated trying to convince the others, however it sounded more like he was trying to convince himself that it wasn't true. 

"You could at least speak to her Sherlock. God only knows the things she's been through." John said to his friend pleadingly. He wasn't about to watch one of the few relationships his friend got the potential to make go rushing down the drain again. "Right you do know."

"She was moved from home to home after three incidents that occurred with her mother. The first was running down the street with her hair on fire, the second was jumping out a window and landing on the street below and the final one was pulling a gun out on people in a public place before shooting and inevitably killing two. Atlas was only around three when that last one happened. Her mother got put in psych. I left them when she was around seven maybe six." Sherlock explained, John's eyebrows narrowing.

"How old is she? What like eighteen?" John asked studying his friend up and down. For the first time in ages Sherlock's face was vulnerable and he looked like he wanted to cry. The normally composed man seemed to be breaking at the seams and John knew that there was more to the story than was being let on. 

"Fifteen." Sherlock croaked and John nodded for Mrs Hudson to leave them alone. She did so leaving the two men alone to hash things out. "I counted. Her birthday is the 16th of November." Sherlock's face was blank but in one way it was also withdrawn. 

"Sherlock. You do realise her name is actually a boy's name. The titan who was given the punishment of holding the sky on his shoulders." John watched as Sherlock's mouth curved up slightly at the edges. 

"Gender neutral actually. " Sherlock laughed slightly before his composure seemed to falter and for a moment Sherlock was the most vulnerable John had ever seen him. "I really failed her."

"But you have an opportunity to fix it." John added, his normal 'don't-mess-this-up' tone being applied. Not long after Mary had died he lived in a pool of regret whilst he held back the whole 'cheating' idea. And he wished he'd made it up to her before it was too late. "So for god sake Sherlock get your coat on, we need to go see her."

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

ATLAS didn't expect to see Sherlock and John come waltzing into Books & Beans and order something to drink. It was nearing early evening and she sat quite quietly reading 'War and Peace' by Leo Tolstoy, a rather heavy book. From her little corner of the coffee shop she could observe the people around her and they would be none the wiser to her sometimes long time staring. 

"Ah. Hello." Sherlock said seating himself opposite the girl in a little booth. She glanced at him momentarily over the edge of the book, she would finish the paragraph before she put it down. John soon joined them handing Sherlock what appeared to be a cup of black tea. 

"That's funny. I didn't have you down as a black tea drinker." Atlas announced without removing her eyes from the page infront of her. Sherlock looked at her funny before taking a sniff and sure enough, black tea had a different smell to that of something other. Eventually, she closed the book placing it down on the table and staring eye to eye with Sherlock.

"It's nice to see you again." Atlas said trying to strike up some form of conversation, however it didn't seem to latch on. "I was hoping you could tell me where my mother is. I just want to know where. Then maybe I can see you every once in a while." Atlas began again. "Maybe...Maybe I could see her."

"You can't." Sherlock announced, John giving him a sideways look of somewhat disapproval. 

"Why can't I?" Atlas asked her own mind taking different pathways to analyse the situation as best as possible. 

"You just can't." Sherlock announced again, this time something in his voice quivering slightly as he said it. Again confused as to why he said it, Atlas decided not to press it. Something wasn't adding up, but inside she was bubbling at the thought of her dad being sat just opposite her. 

"Okay." She whispered quietly, Sherlock's head snapping up to meet her eyes.

"I would say you look like her-"

"But I don't. I look like you. I looked like you when I was seven years old." Atlas announced her heart pounding loudly in her ears. Did this mean that Sherlock was admitting it? Saying it was true?

"Have you got somewhere to stay?" John asked, shocked when she shook her head and gestured to the bags leaning against their feet under the table.

"I was going to try a few B&B's. Just see what I can find." Atlas said as she looked at the man. She didn't like what he was about to offer, but it was probably safer than most places at the moment. 

"Stay with us." Sherlock said, surprising both parties until they realised that this situation was rather different to normal. "You might have to take the couch until we can figure out what to do. John's selling his house."

"How old's your daughter Rosie?" Atlas asked.

"I don't remember mentioning Rosie." John said critically of the girl. Suddenly an urge uncertainty courses through his veins. 

"There is a flower hanging out your jacket pocket and a photo on the mantelpiece in the hall of a young child and inside the frame is a note left by your late wife." Atlas began. "I could go on, but I don't want to." 

"Bloody hell. Your just like him." John exclaimed while Atlas laughed. She looked around the cafe before sharing a knowing look with Sherlock.

"It's strange to find walking down the street a game." Atlas began her mouth speaking what her brain thought without a filter. "Do you ever find it get's to be too much sometimes?" 

Sherlock silently nodded taking a sip of his tea. He reached a hand over and took her own and in a moment she felt happy. It was strange that her father could do that but she seemed relaxed. "And then sometimes my brain works to fast and I can't get the words out my mouth fast enough." Sherlock laughed, Atlas joining in.

"Half the time its illegible and then you change your mind two seconds later." John added and the laughter continued, something easy between the three of them. Little did they know, that it was only the beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to explain why I chose to call my character Atlas. It's quite simple, I'm one of those people who finds it really hard to gel with character if I don't like their name. So I thought, let's go really unusual. So then I chose (he usually boy's name) Atlas. 
> 
> Hopefully, if your hanging around, you continue to enjoy my story.


	2. Atlas' First Dead Body

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of murder. (But I mean this is a Sherlock Holmes fic.)
> 
> Yes, Sherlock's not super true to character in any of this but it's his own daughter.

"MORNING." Atlas said as she left the bathroom and rentered the living room to see Sherlock already rifling through several sheets of paper. Or at least she thought they were pieces of paper until she got closer and realised it was actually sheet music. Sherlock let out an annoyed shout as he tried to find the his own composition amongst Beethoven, Handel and Bach. 

"Is this what your looking for?" Atlas asked as she picked up a piece of paper and studying it in her hands. She understood music well, being a violinist and pianist herself. The violin wasn't ger favourite or first instrument but she was still able to play quite intricate melodies. However the piano was her first love and her fingers were itching to just play, play something, play anything!

"Yes, yes it is." Sherlock said gratefully as he took it from her, placing it on the music stand he had set up. However he didn't pick up his violin, instead he paused and looked at Atlas.

"I'm stuck on this section of melody. I don't suppose you could..." Sherlock began. "You know."

Atlas nodded and made her way towards Sherlock taking the violin from hands. She let her fingers move all over it until she rested it beneath her chin. She looked up at Sherlock and he nodded.

Then she played the music and was surprised to find that it spoke to her, telling her a story. She was so close to reaching the section that Sherlock was needing help with and then she played. Atlas played something that came straight from her heart and onto the violin and Sherlock wrote it down. He smiled at himself as he realised he was right to ask her to play as she fixed his broken melody.

Then the music came to it's conclusion and she stopped playing feeling that playing anymore would be to drag it on too long.

"How was that?" She asked nervously placing the violin back in it's case and putting the bow back.

"Very good." Sherlock announced scribbling down some more of the melody then turning his attention to her. "You play. But where's your instrument?"

"In an Edinburgh storage unit. Along with some sheet music and a piano." Atlas announced to Sherlock who frowned slightly at her. He finally smiled before zipping up the violin case. 

"Your hands tell me so." Sherlock added before pacing to the mantelpiece and back. Then he stood with his hands on his chin in thought. "I think your ready."

"For what?" Atlas shrugged as she made her way over to John's chair and sat down. He wouldn't be up for quite some time and Rosie was sitting happily on the floor. She was around about four and was playing with some blocks of big Lego. Her blonde brown hair had yet to be brushed and Sherlock made a mental note to brush it for her. It was strange for him, but he found himself soothed when he cared for his best friends daughter.

"Your first body." Sherlock announced before he found a brush and picked up Rosie who flailed slightly. Then sitting in his chair he placed her on his lap and brushed her hair for her. For the first time since meeting Sherlock Atlas was pleasantly surprised to find him smiling. Genuinely smiling and genuinely laughing as she gave him clips to help pull back her hair into place. Then scrambling out his lap she ran off shouting "Papi! Papi!" as she made her way to John's room.

"What are you smiling at?" Sherlock asked as his eyes lingered momentarily on the door which she had exited from. Atlas seemed to snicker slightly as she held her book in her lap.

"You. It's clear since I met you last night that you don't do emotion's or physical contact. But for some reason you do kids. Something is not adding up Sherlock Holmes." Atlas smirked as she looked at the man opposite her. She'd only known him properly (excluding the first seven years of her life, but that was a story for another day) for just over twelve hours yet she felt like she had known him for years. That's the thing with having the gift. You can trust too easily, too quickly.

"Papi? She calls her dad Papi." Atlas noted quietly as she sat with her book. Sherlock raised his head and looked over at the girl, studying her curiously. 

"Yes. I don't know why, but she always has. She probably picked it up somewhere at nursery or in a book." Sherlock said quietly, before looking over to Atlas who smiled, nodding as she understood.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

SHERLOCK, Atlas and John all approached the site where the person had been murdered. Atlas couldn't tell if the bubbling she felt in her stomach was caused by excitement at seeing a dead one for the first time. Or because she was excited to be working on a case.

As they reached the warning tape they stopped as Lestrade approached them, his face wearing a confused expression. His eyes furrowed as he noticed that the girl was infact younger than he had first assumed. She was wearing a dark blue blazer as she shoved her glasses up on her face. 

"Eh, who's this?" Lestrade asked his hand gesturing to the girl that stood beside John, tentatively. She was undeniably nervous at this encounter and she wasn't sure what to say. Oh yeah, I'm Mr Holmes' daughter, nice to meet you. No, that was not going to work, not in the slightest.

"She's visiting." Sherlock announced to Lestrade who looked at him disbelieving anything Sherlock says.

"Visiting?" 

"Yes, visiting. That's what I just said." Sherlock said getting frustrated before lifting up the tape and mentioning for Atlas and John to go under, before he himself went under. 

"Look, I can't let the kid in." Lestrade said holding his hand out stopping Atlas from continuing any further.

"You need her on the case." John announced placing his hand on Lestrade's chest telling him to back up. He did so taking a few steps back before Atlas nodded in thanks before producing a hand infront of Lestrade.

"Atlas." Atlas announced, trying to think of a last name, but failing to produce one.

"Just Atlas?" Lestrade asked.

"Just Atlas." She said as Lestrade took her hand and shook it, the handshake lingering momentarily as the other man took time to fully assess the girl.

"Lestrade. Greg Lestrade." He announced, shaking the girls hand before noticing the likeness between her and Sherlock. Confused was the best way to describe how he was feeling, however he swiftly brushed it off.

"Nice to meet you Inspector Lestrade." She announced, finding it funny as he left a confused expression yet again. He realised he never actually said that he was an Inspector and it wasn't obvious that he was one. Unless...No. He couldn't be right. Greg stood looking dumbfounded before his mind made him look back at where the girl in question was following on to the murder site. 

Atlas held back as she could just see the legs of the body poking out from beneath the cover. Something in her stomach lurched as Sherlock and John both noticed her holding back. She closed her eyes whispering to herself _It's just a dead body. It's just a dead body._ She started to take a few steps her eyes still tight shut, her eyes only opening when a hand took a tight hold of hers. She looked up to see John smiling at her as he led her to the body, she was closer now.

"Well done." Sherlock whispered, nothing comical being hinted in his voice as he placed a hand on her back. It was strange Atlas noted for him to do this, he wasn't good at human contact or emotions. 

Now she could see the body and it wasn't as bad as she initially thought it was going to be, yet she squeezed John's hand tighter. 

"You don't have to do this."  
John reassured but Atlas nodded telling him she wanted to continue.

"What do you observe?" Sherlock asked looking over to Atlas who seemed to have some more confidence instilled in her.

"Nine...nineteen. Just started university, out drinking, she has been raped. She's had braces, she's from west london, she can drive. Not from this country. No she's staying in West London, but she's not from here. She dressed up. " Atlas began. "There's more. I just know your having the same thoughts."

"What else? We're missing something." Sherlock said as both John and Atlas peered closer.

"The ring! She's wearing a wedding ring!" Atlas exclaimed it all making sense in her head before her face fell. John looked between Sherlock and Atlas begging for them to announce the conclusion they had come to. 

"She was trafficked." Atlas finally announced after some time, something hitting her hard in the chest as she looked up at John who rubbed a hand over his face. 

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

ATLAS had been staying with John and Sherlock for a few days when she saw another dead body. This time she had to do the same thing, only she managed to get there faster. Her mind was racing as she approached the side of the second body, her stomach lurching at the sight. 

It was the broken neck with the rope still tied around it that sent her running round a corner, her hand placed on the wall as she struggled to keep her food down. Her eyes blurred with tears as she couldn't get the image out of her mind. Then she headed straight for the park avoiding the looks people gave her as she left the crime scene.

That evening Sherlock, for a change sat on the sofa crossed legged sending another tweet. Atlas came in feeling slightly down trodden as she thought about the day's events. John was playing with Rosie on the floor as Atlas entered. She sat on the sofa next to Sherlock, something telling her she could trust him.

"Can...Can I call you guys John and Sherlock?" Atlas asked catching both the men's attention. "I'm not really good with all these formalities."

"Yeah." John laughed as he handed Rosie another block to add to her building blocks.

"I'm no good at formalities either." Sherlock replied still messaging on his phone and Atlas took that as yes, she could. She shuffled closer to Sherlock leaning her head against his shoulder which surprised him. Her mind suddenly became flooded with images of the strangled girl, the trafficked girl and she couldn't get them out of there head. Her throat clogged up and she felt a tear fall from her eye but she swiftly brushed it away. Another one fell and she hastily removed it before not being able to keep up. 

"Hey. What's wrong Atlas?" John asked looking up at her with his eyebrows furrowed in concern. He handed Rosie another block before looking back at Atlas expectantly.

"I just keep seeing her lying there, her neck broken and twisted. And I'm there reading everything that happened to her." Atlas said. "And I don't want to know. I sometimes hate being able to read people."

Sherlock put his phone down on the arm of the sofa lifting his arm up as Atlas slotted into the space perfectly. "It's alright." Sherlock kept saying as he stroked his thumb over her shoulder. Atlas began to sob slightly as she curled more into Sherlock who seemed to take it. He kissed her head and nuzzled his nose into her hair whilst he held her close.

"I feel like that sometimes." Sherlock said shocking John who didn't see the statement coming whatsoever. 

"Only you turn into a robot." John laughed as Rosie nodded in agreement. "Rosie agrees."

"I'm going to do everything I can to stop you from turning into that." Sherlock reassured as Atlas closed her eyes, feeling secure in her father's embrace.

Genuine affection. That was the best way to describe the sight John witnessed infront of him.


	3. Mycroft and The Grandparents

THE day that Atlas met the rest of Sherlock's - or rather her family was rather eventful. She had been helping with some cases and helping look after Rosie for around a month now. Somehow all this had not caught Mycroft's attention quite enough yet. He knew of Atlas but was yet to make the journey to meet her. However he had told his and Sherlock's parents and they were already on there way to see them by the time the clock hit 9am. There visit was rather unannounced and it was slap bang in the middle of a quiet day in which Atlas had insisted they do. 

Atlas sat in Sherlock's chair reading her next book which - for a change - was about the effects of drugs, her legs crossed as she studied the pages. At the desk John was sat writing a blog entry for the most recent case that they were working on and in the kitchen Sherlock was testing the strength of the intestine when put under immense pressure. Rosie was sitting in the living room with a colouring book and Mrs Hudson was in the kitchen handing Sherlock a cup of tea before coming through to the rest of them.

"Oh. Mrs Hudson. You really didn't have to. I can get it myself you know." Atlas somewhat scolded as she took the tea and Mrs Hudson laughed before turning to leave. 

"Thank you!" John shouted.

"Oh Mycroft. How lovely to see you here." Mrs Hudson said sarcastically as she made her way past the eldest sibling.

"Dear brother." Mycroft said to Sherlock a his brother simply frowned at him before removing his goggles. Quietly Atlas moved the book higher to obscure her face a little bit more, however the dark curls were highly likely to give the game away. John frowned getting to his feet to stop anything from happening between the often unhappy siblings.

"And this must be Atlas." Mycroft said approaching the girl who sat with a book obscuring her face. She lowered it slightly to glare at him with steely blue eyes which somehow frightened Mycroft. The dark curls and blue eyes were a big giveaway and Mycroft knew to approach with care. Without warning the girl stood, her next moves remaining perfectly unpredictable. 

"Nice to meet you Mr Holmes." Atlas said presenting her hand for what felt like the fifteenth time this week. The man seemed taken aback but shook it gladly.

"Well mannered. She didn't get that from you Sherlock." Mycroft announced which made John snicker receiving a knowing look from Sherlock.

"I learnt it." Atlas replied. "Now if you'll excuse me I believe the timer I set up for an experiment in my bedroom is about to go off in approximately eight seconds." Swiftly she exited the room leaving the three men alone.

"Does she think like us?" Mycroft asked as he picked up the book, studying the page she was on.

"Better than us." Sherlock announced. "I don't know how or why but she can tell things from pictures and photos, even if partially obscured. Even you find that difficult Mycroft." 

"That and she is good with handwriting and telling you a lot about a person based on their handwriting." John added as Sherlock and Mycroft both furrowed their brows. "She told me everything I already knew about Mary and more when she found a note of hers scrunched up under the sofa."

"That's a peculiar skill to have acquired." Mycroft said just as Atlas returned with a different book, kneeling down next to Rosie and handing her some colouring pens.

"Do you attend school?" Mycroft asked as Atlas shook her head. She was fifteen now and wasn't long off being legally allowed to not attend, and plus it wasn't the right place for her. 

"I don't generally do well." Atlas said before adding. "One time the supply teacher announced that our teacher was off due to illness. I answered back that it was actually due to her having an affair with the janitor and she was currently packing her stuff from the house she was living in and moving to Denmark to be with her beloved...The head teacher didn't like that much." Atlas began as she got up and moved around the room. She picked up stuff on several surfaces around the room. "There were a lot of incidents like that and I was right everytime, but in the end it didn't matter 'cause I would still move school."

"We could homeschool." John suggested. "Atlas continues coming with us on cases and we teach her maths and other subjects here at 221B Baker Street." 

"Alright." Mycroft said, something protesting in his voice as he could think of no valid argument. The girl had some talent and putting her to school would most likely dumb it down, he wasn't going to let that happen.

"Thank you." Atlas said before she picked up a piece of manuscript and began to scribble something down. Before handing it to Sherlock who looked it over and nodded at her before handing it back to her. She continued to write down the melody stuck in her head leaving Mycroft to exchange relative looks with John.

"Sherlock! Your parents are here!" Mrs Hudson shouted as they heard her ascend the stairs with another two sets of footsteps. Atlas really didn't want to meet any more people of her supposed family. She'd gone from having no family to having every family member she never had in a matter of weeks. To say she was overwhelmed was an understatement but she decided to stick with it. 

Atlas quickly scarpered to the kitchen putting the kettle on to make hot beverages for their announced guests. She hadn't taken her manuscript with her leaving it on her seat, the title being written on the top of the paper with the beginning tune for Piano and violin duet. The title was _"From Nothing to Everything."_

Mrs Hudson soon joined Atlas in the kitchen which was visable from the living room. The two parents had now stopped in the living room as they watched a dark curly haired girl place mugs on the counter. Briefly they caught sight of her eye colour and were surprised to see that she was exactly like their son, Sherlock. 

Atlas stopped what she was doing and looked up, her eyes met those of her grandparents and she smiled before lifting a tray with a teapot, milk, sugar and an assortment of cups into the living room. She placed it on the desk before turning around where she was standing to meet eyes with her grandparents.

"Atlas." The girl said producing her hand yet again and shaking hands with both the man and woman. They both shared a look that was somewhat disapproving and Atlas' hands became clammy. She left the room again this time heading to get her something from her room. John was now in a shared room with Rosie and Sherlock had his own room so Atlas had taken the spare room. However Mrs Hudson had recently said that for only £20 more a week she would let them rent a room from her flat. It seemed most likely that Atlas would take that room when it came to it. 

Rifling through her bags she found what she was looking for and instantly it soothed her. She held it in her hand momentarily before she heard her name being mentioned and decided to earwigg on the conversation.

_"She's quite shy." John explained, Atlas could hear the kindness in his voice._

_"From nothing to everything?" A voice was heard reading aloud. It was an older male voice so she came to the conclusion that it must be Sherlock's dad. "Quite a title."_

_"Poor thing must have been to hell and back again." The woman she assumed to be Sherlock's mum said. "She doesn't speak about being in foster care does she?"_

_"No." Sherlock answered. "Never. And I'm not going to push her. She'll tell me or John or whomever when she's ready."_

The room fell into a steady silence as the conversation drew itself a conclusion. Sherlock's parents were shocked to see him in quite such a different light as this. One where he cared and he was really trying to make things right by the girl he could now call his daughter. It scared Mycroft and it sent John running for the hills, but maybe it was for the best.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

"I FEEL like that was successful." Atlas said whilst picking up several mugs of tea and placing them on the kitchen table. Sherlock raised his eyebrows whilst also helping move the mugs. "I tried."

"We know." John said coming over with another mug they had missed when picking them up. "Don't we Sherlock?" All that could be heard was Sherlock snickering on the other side of the kitchen as he washed the mugs. "Just ignore him." John announced.

"Your lucky I'm not washing the mugs Sherlock Holmes." Atlas scolded before leaving the two men to speak. That is if John could bring himself to bring up what he had been meaning to mention for a whole month.

"Sherlock. I was thinking..."

"It's always a bad outcome when you've been thinking." 

"Anyway. We need to get in contact with the storage unit firm up in Edinburgh and see if they will transport her piano, violin and sheet music here." John inquired before he heard Sherlock sigh.

"It could be her birthday present." John hinted, knowing that Sherlock had forgotten that it was her birthday in a fortnight. That would mean Sherlock wouldn't have to work hard to find her a present. He had an easy cop-out option that meant he didn't need to be all sentimental.

That evening he set about calling the firm, and arranged transport for all of her belongings down to London. When he gave the address the person on the other side of the line didn't believe him, however he was reassured.


	4. Atlas, The Suicide Bomber

WHEN you lived with Sherlock Holmes and Doctor John Watson a normal day, was not normal. Most days were filled with door knocking cases that were easily solved, the occasional one leading into an investigation that would be handed over to Lestrade before Sherlock had the chance to tamper with any evidence. One by one the cases would come in, each one being more unusual than the next and then the evening would be filled with John typing the blog and Sherlock absent mindedly texting. 

Before them sat a man dressed in woman's clothing who was talking about an uncertainty about his wife. Something about her cheating on him with another man, but Atlas had long since switched off and returned to her book. John disappeared leaving a balloon in his place as he had done so many times before. 

Sherlock got bored of the man and sent him on his way before glancing at his watch and leaving the door open slightly. 

"Another good day of cases." Sherlock announced in his strangely upbeat manner of awkwardness.

"Are you high again?" Atlas smirked before putting her eyes back to the page about 1950's mental health treatments. John reappeared with milky tea for Sherlock and his own tea for himself. 

"Me and Sherlock have to go out to see Lestrade and Mycroft. You will be alright on your own?" John questioned, care in his eyes as he settled to the desk and began to type as usual. 

"Of course I will." Atlas somewhat complained before going back to her book forcing John and Sherlock to exchange a look between them as they continued to do what they were doing. "Did the melody I compose work out on the violin?" Atlas questioned after some time, the thought coming briefly into his head. 

"Uhh...yes." Sherlock said, only after finishing the tweet he was in the middle of writing. Then he looked up and met eyes with Atlas who was assessing him in her normal way. "It's a good melody. Is there more to it?" 

"It'll make more sense with the piano underneath." Atlas explained before lowering her voice. "And with the singing over the top."

Sherlock raised his eyebrows before John felt the urge to ask a question he'd been meaning to bring up for weeks.

"Atlas?" John asked, Atlas raising her head from the book she had just started back on again. "You've never deduced me since the first time we met. Why is that?"

"Because I don't need to." Atlas explained as she put a bookmark in her book and put it on the side table. "Sherlock knows what I know, maybe more and you know yourself. I don't need to deduce and tell the whole room. I'm more content doing it and not telling anyone my conclusion. It's far more entertaining." 

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

ATLAS didn't know how she ended up in this situation, a few minutes ago she was walking down the street and now she was sat on her bed with a ticking time bomb attached go her torso. A part of her was praying someone wouldn't come into the house so she didn't kill them. Rosie had gone out shopping with Mrs Hudson. Another part of her was praying to be rescued and be able to say goodbye.

A few minutes later after sitting in painful silence aside from the beeping on the clock Atlas heard the front door open and in came John. As he made his way up the stairs he analysed the scuff marks and followed the trail to Atlas' room.

"I thought you were going out on a walk." John said to Atlas who turned to him just as a tear fell from her eye and rolled down her cheek. "Hey, hey what's wrong?" He said slowly making his way into the bedroom as her eyes tracked his as he came round to face her. His eyes went wide in fear as he stood to look at Atlas who was sat on the bed.

"Help me." She whispered for fear that she might get heard. "Please John. Please help me."

"Okay, okay." John said trying to reassure her as her breaths began to get quicker and shorter as she began to panic.

"If I die..." Atlas began.

"Your not going to die." John replied holding her hands in his as the clock reached four minutes until the bomb went off.

"But if I do. Tell Sherlock I love him. And that I know he's trying really hard to be a good dad. I love him and I love you John. Thank you for giving me emotional support when the genius turns into a robot." She tried to give him a little chuckle but it only came out as a guttural sob.

Meanwhile downstairs Sherlock was standing outside the door of 221B as he noticed something peculiar. Gashes, scratches for help edging their way up the side of the wall up the stairs. Sherlock shared a look with his brother before edging his way up the stairs carefully. Despite completing his best deduction he couldn't seem to quite get the answer. 

As soon as Atlas heard them coming her breath started to catch in her throat as more people could die because of her. She was too irresponsible, a silly little girl. She should never have gone out alone at night. She shouldn't have been so stupid to not realise all the telling signs that she was being followed. However, she couldn't tell anyone what happened, she had no recollection. And that scared her. She felt distant as if she was watching herself through a screen, she couldn't even think. She didn't have a clue about how to save herself.

"Atlas." Sherlock pleaded as his daughter looked off into the distance. She had to have been drugged at some point and now she was feeling the after effects. It was almost like experiencing dissociation and not coming back for prolonged periods of time. Her breathing was fast as Sherlock gently his hands either side of her face to make her face him. "Hey. Hey."

"Help me." Atlas whispered under her breath as Lestrade phoned for bomb disposal in the corner of the room. Sherlock was crouched before her looking at her kindly, in a way which Mycroft had never seen him do with anyone before. Not even John seemed to get this treatment, at least not from what he had observed. 

"Your going to have to stand up. The wire we are going to have to cut will be round the back." Mycroft said while Atlas stood up her legs shaking beneath her as John came to stand in front of her. 

"You'll be okay." John said reassuringly as Sherlock and Mycroft set to work deducing as much as possible about the vest which she was wearing. There was no way to take it off without triggering a switch and so far they weren't getting anywhere. Every wire they came across was black - harder to know which one to snip. 

Tears began to cloud Atlas' vision as the beeps began to get increasingly louder as the timer reached two minutes and a half. Her breath caught in her throat as she glanced down at the timer. 

"Atlas. Look at me." John said putting his hand under her chin and making sure she looked at him while Sherlock and Mycroft began to discuss many things about the vest. 

"Why would someone do this to a kid?" Lestrade muttered from the sidelines as he watched two brilliant minds save another brilliant mind. And then he saw John and observed how he had changed Sherlock's life. How if Sherlock didn't have a best friend he'd be a different man, he wouldn't even be human. 

"Sherlock, you need to hurry." John announced as he glanced at the clock which had now reached one minute. Atlas began to tremble and let out a quiet whimper as she focused on looking at John. 

"We found it." Sherlock announced as the clock hit thirty seconds.

"Everyone leave. Incase it's the wrong one, everyone needs to leave." Atlas said whilst Sherlock frowned and looked at her in refusal. Slowly they all left except for Sherlock. "You need to go too, I can look in the mirror and snip it for myself."

"No, I'm going to do it." Sherlock said as he held a pair of scissors in his hand. Slowly he held the scissors above the wire until he paused. His gut was telling him something and he couldn't snip the wire. So in quick thought as the ten second count down began he snipped a different wire. Nothing happened. Then he came to the realisation it was a hoax, someone wanted to get under his skin. 

"Hello Sherlock." A voice said on the other side. Distinct yet unfamiliar to the pair as the voice continued. "Good to see I've got your attention. Now, if your listening carefully I have a case for you."

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

ANXIOUSLY they waited for bomb disposal to arrive to remove the vest. Atlas couldn't be hugged or touched or anything like that, not until the vest was safely removed. Silently she held back tears as the relief wasn't quite ready to leave her body. At least not yet.

"The bomb disposal are here." Lestrade said as the team entered Atlas' room, she just wanted it to all be over. She just wanted it to end, she'd had it strapped to her chest for quite sometime now and she kept worrying that the countdown would suddenly start again. Standing in the centre of the room they began to set to work removing each section of the vest piece by piece. One hour later the vest was removed and the bomb disposal left the room. The clock read nearly midnight and Atlas sighed as she heard Sherlock send the bomb disposal men on their way along with Greg.

"I'm leaving Atlas." Mycroft said knocking on the door to her room she turned to look at him. 

"Okay." Atlas said before approaching her uncle. With an impulse she hugged him tightly and Mycroft seemed somewhat taken aback. "Thank you for saving my life." 

"Anything for another Holmes." Mycroft said before turning to leave, pausing infront of the open door. "If my brother ever gets too much, you are welcome to come and see me." Atlas nodded before the man she was growing ever the more fond of left the room.

Atlas sighed forcing herself to suck up all the pain she was feeling. Relief seemed to pour out of her body as she placed back and for across her room. She really missed her piano and violin as a way to distress so she chose the next best thing. 

A book.

Atlas picked up a book from her book shelf. It was The Two Towers by Tolkein, a personal favourite in the genre. Then she made her way into the living room, her chest still sitting heavy as she sat down in the living room.

"Oh. Hey." John said as he entered the living room sitting down in his chair opposite Atlas who was sitting in Sherlock's. Atlas remained hidden behind her book as she frowned behind the book. Sherlock came in and frowned as he observed his kid. 

"Are you alright Atlas?" John asked the girl sat opposite him as she kept her head in her book.

"Yeah." Her voice quivered. "I'm doing good for someone who just had a bomb strapped to her chest." Tears formed in her eyes and she cursed herself for crying behind her book. Why couldn't she be stronger? Why couldn't she fight them off? Why couldn't her brain just stop? Why couldn't she sleep?

Atlas put her book down and looked and Sherlock with tears in her eyes. Sherlock stood in the centre of the room as Atlas tried to get past him to her room.

"Your not alright." Sherlock announced as John got up and stood behind Atlas. 

"I'm not." Atlas replied as she admitted what she had been thinking. "I'm really..." Deep breath in. "Really not." Sherlock drew her into his arms and held her close. Tears fell down her face as she was held by the man she was proud to call her father.

"Tell him." John said as she pulled out of the hug and dried her eyes. She looked back at John for reassurance and he nodded at her.

"I know you can't do emotion...or anything like that." Atlas said carefully as she treaded lightly. "But when I thought I was...I was going to die I spoke to John." Sherlock looked at John as if asking him to give him some sort of sign. "I know your trying really hard." Sherlock furrowed his eyebrows at her. "And I'm really grateful that your doing so much for me." His eyes became teary. "And when I thought I was going to die I wanted nothing other than to say...Thank you. And I love you." Sherlock smiled awkwardly as tears fell from his eyes and he was swarmed with a whole host of emotions. "Dad."

Without warning Sherlock engulfed her in a hug his own emotions spilling out of him. And before he knew what he was feeling or saying he replied.

"I love you more."


	5. Spleen

ATLAS woke up one morning in early November to an empty house. She sighed and made her way into the kitchen to make herself some cereal. However she was somewhat pleased to see Mycroft sitting at the table waiting for her.

"Oh hello Mycroft." Atlas greeted as she turned to the fridge to get the milk for her cereal. "Good morning." She sat down opposite him at the kitchen table as Mycroft read the paper to himself. "Where's John and Sherlock?"

"Out. They had a case given to them that you couldn't join them on." Mycroft said although he wasn't a good liar and Atlas knew he wasn't telling the truth. In fact she was pretty sure they were investigating the case that had been given to them the day she wore a suicide vest. 

"What about Rosie?" 

"Sleeping. I've been in and checked her."

"So your here to what? Babysit me?" 

"No. To play Scrabble."

"Scrabble?"

"Yes. Scrabble."

"Not monopoly or cluedo?" 

"The last time I played either of those with someone -"

"Sherlock."

"It didn't end well."

"Right."

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

"WHO spells 'spleen' with an a in the middle?" Mycroft asked as Atlas laughed laying down her letters. The game had been going well and they were currently neck and neck in position.

"The Russian rock band." Atlas replied laughing as she collected more letters from the green bag. She knew fine well that you weren't allowed things like that, but Mycroft was being surprisingly okay with it. Letting it slide she supposed. Mycroft was proving more fun than Sherlock ever seemed to make out that he was. But it was clear from the way that they both spoke they wouldn't let the other one die. There had been moments when Sherlock was close to being shot or Mycroft was close to death but they always pulled each other out of the well. The well beneath the tree in the garden.

"I've been thinking about what to get Sherlock for Christmas. I know it's a long way off, but I've had an idea. I needed to check with you first." Atlas said out of the blue after Mycroft had laid his word down.

"Go on."

"A dog." Atlas announced proudly, her face lit up in a thousand colours as if she had just hit the jack pot.

"A dog?" Mycroft sighed. "How are you going to afford it?" 

"I'm going to ask John for help...And...well...you." Atlas replied. Mycroft sighed looking at her smugly.

"What type of dog do you propose?" Mycroft asked as Atlas smiled knowing she had him on board.

"A Redbeard dog. The dog he could never have but always wanted." Atlas explained. "I want to try get a rehomed dog. I don't think we could handle a puppy."

"Agreed. I'm in." 

"Thank you. Thank you. Thank you Mycroft. You won't regret it."

"I know I won't. Just promise that I can be there when he gets given it." Mycroft said smiling to himself as he thought about Sherlock seeing the dog he always wanted before him. He was pretty sure that he would see his brother cry with happiness at the sight before him. "Now it's your turn to lay your word."

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

"THAT'S 506 points to you and 478 to me." Mycroft said as he threw the scoring pad onto the table along with the pen. He had been well and truly beaten - normally he was the one who would win - by a fifteen year old girl. She smiled at him smugly.

"Your only lucky I let you have spleen with an 'a' in it." Mycroft said as he looked at the girl opposite him.

"Ahh. Splean as in the Russian rock band." Sherlock said as himself and John entered the kitchen, John nodding in Mycroft's direction.

"How the hell do you know that William Sherlock Scott Holmes?" Mycroft said using Sherlock's full name because he knew how much he hated it.

"Your name is actually William?" Atlas asked in disbelief, laughing as she thought about calling Sherlock, William instead. "Sherlock's a girl's name anyway."

Sherlock gave her a sideways look before continuing to make his tea. For a moment Atlas thought about all the what if's? What if Sherlock wasn't her father? What if she didn't come looking for them? What if? What if? Then she concluded that despite Sherlock being odd, she liked him. He _is_ her dad. 

"I'll be off then." Mycroft said as he got up from the table to leave. He gave Sherlock a pointed look before nodding at John.

"I'll see you out." Atlas said as John and Sherlock gave each other a somewhat questioning look. She followed Mycroft into the hallway before the stairs shutting the door behind them.

"Thank you for today. I'll ring you about Redbeard." Atlas said before waving goodbye to her uncle as she left. She retook her position at the kitchen table to tidy away the scrabble. John sat next to her whilst Sherlock sat opposite her Rosie sitting gayly on his knee. Sherlock secretly loved kids but John couldn't stand children. However, they all thought of him as a big teddy bear and he were growing to be fond of them at the same time. 

Little did Atlas know but John had developed a space in his heart for her too. She didn't expect it and she didn't think he still had the space left after all he'd been through and all the people he had lost. Sherlock on the other hand always had a space for her and he spent years trying to fill it. Although he would never admit it, Mary, John and Rosie filled part of it for a while until Atlas found him. Now he felt complete with his best friend, his best friends daughter and Atlas. 

Nothing stays the same at 221B Baker Street for long though.


	6. The Arrival of Sheet Music

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short one!

TWO days to go until Atlas' sixteenth and the house was unusually quiet. All it's inhabitants were somewhat peaceful except for Sherlock who was sulking on the sofa as he refused to look at anyone. Atlas, on several occasions had suggested he pick up a book and learn something new. Sherlock just said he didn't have anything new to learn, John begged to differ. 

Mrs Hudson announced herself at the entrance to the flat at precisely 2:43pm. She cleared her throat making Sherlock turn to look at her slightly. 

"There's a van downstairs. Says he has something for you John." Mrs Hudson says as John makes his way down the stairs and out the front door. "And stop sulking Sherlock. No-one likes it when you sulk." He let out a sound that much resembled a 'hmph' before Mrs Hudson descended the stairs.

John had managed to get all of the items out the van and had persuaded Mrs Hudson to hide them away in one of her rooms. Now, he just had to figure out how to get Atlas out of the house for more than an hour. Then it came to him, she hadn't seen Mycroft in quite sometime. 

"Mycroft." 

"Watson."

"Can you take Atlas to the library this evening? I checked the opening times."

"I'll do you one better. I'll let her look through some solved government cases at MI5." A pause for a few moments. "I assume everything came."

"Yes. And safely."

"Good. I'll be there at seven."

"Thank you."

Conversations were never that long with Mycroft, particularly not between Mycroft and John. They got on, but it always felt awkward or alien to them when they spoke. But John was grateful for this offer. It meant that himself and Sherlock - if he could pull him out his sulk - could set it up upstairs ready for Atlas' return and as an early birthday present.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

ATLAS didn't even question it as Mycroft turned up at seven sharp to take her to MI5. She wasn't surprised to see him despite being unaware that it was happening. Sherlock was still in a sulk but had agreed that he would help John and Mrs Hudson manouver everything up the stairs and into the spot that had been cleared infront of the window.

Once Atlas was out of the house John stood at the door to the flat. "Sherlock. Move your ass." Eventually with another 'hmph' Sherlock moved away from the sofa and joined John before they descended the stairs. Once they reached the room where they were holding all the sheet music, piano and the violin, Sherlock taking a moment as he sighed. This was going to be a big job.

After much crashing, banging and rudely inappropriate words from none other than Sherlock. A few wall scratches later and the duo had managed to get the piano upstairs. It was placed in the agreed location where Sherlock smiled. He'd have to move the location of his violin to put the piano there but he didn't care. Then they lifted the two plastic boxes of sheet music upstairs, stacking them up next to the sofa. John was left to carry the embroderied piano stool up the stairs whilst Sherlock spent a sneaky few minutes having a look ove the sheet music, finding several piano and violin duets - some written by Atlas and some written by others. 

"This is the last thing." John said as he entered the room carrying the violin in the purple box shaped case. He placed it gently next to Sherlock's, flopping onto the sofa. "This better be worth it."

"It will be." Sherlock said whilst presumably sending yet another tweet.

"I know." John admitted just as Mrs Hudson came up the stairs to make three cups of tea. She silently applauded them before making some cups of tea for them all. "I always assumed her last name was Holmes. But is it? What actually is her name?" John queried the question playing on his mind furiously.

"Ida." Sherlock answered as he continued studying the file he was looking at. John gave him a pointed look causing him to look up. "Her name is Ida Atlas Elizabeth Holmes. I suppose she thought Ida and Elizabeth were too boring." 

"I suppose her mother chose Elizabeth and Ida." John back handedly commented as he took the tea he had been presented with. He smiled at Mrs Hudson as he took it from her before she took it over to Sherlock.

"Thank you, Mrs Hudson." Sherlock said politely causing herself and John to share a look with each other. 

"No. I chose Ida." Sherlock said as he continued what he was doing, ignoring John's slight snigger of laughter. That earned him a whack off of Mrs Hudson as she resumed her standing position next to where John was sitting in his chair. 

"I think Ida is a lovely name Sherlock." Mrs Hudson said kindly as she took a drink from her tea. She'd become a constant in their lives and frankly John was grateful, they needed her in their lives. Actually, as Sherlock once put it, England would fall without her. 

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

UPON arriving at 221B, Atlas was undoubtedly suspicious. Mycroft followed her up the stairs, knowing that she was analysing every detail as they stepped up. Her hand lingered momentarily opposite the door knob before she twisted it and entered the room. In front of her John and Sherlock were smiling goofily as they stood with their hand's behind their backs, constable style.

"What are you tw-" Atlas began but the two men separated to reveal the surprise before her. She stood her eyes wide in confusion and shock before she took a few steps forward her fingers desperately seeking the feel of the dark wood.

When her hand finally made contact with the wood she felt relieved. The time away from it was not that well spent and her fingers had longed the feeling of the ivory keys. Her piano was quite old so ivory keys it was, along with old wood and old pedal's. Then her eyes went wider upon seeing the sheet music and violin, her hands trembling at the thought.

Her fingers caressed the longing purple case as she unzipped it, carefully lifting the lid. Then, there it was. Her violin. The one Sherlock had given her mother as a present to give to her when she was old enough. Her mouth dropped open as she looked at the violin sitting in the case, her hands caressing the wooden instrument. Then she paused, waiting, thinking. 

"Thank you. Quite a feat to pull off under my nose." Atlas explained as she looked around the somewhat stuffy room, each man smiling back at her. Mrs Hudson seemed to be smiling too as she approached the girl with some tea.

"Thank you Mrs Hudson." Atlas smiled in return as she took the cup. Mycroft hovered in the door. "I'm sensing your departure...Uncle." 

"Yes. You would be right." Mycroft smiled, to his surprise the girl he had just spent the evening with placed down her mug and engulfed him in a hug. Less cold than his brother but still a genius that could outsmart an entire room. 

"Thank you for today." Atlad smiled at him before he left the building, Atlas resuming to drink her tea.

"Uncle. My, Mycroft's gone up in the world." John said earning a laugh from the room as they all resumed their previous places. Atlas stood looking at the piano, smiling as Sherlock made his way over to the violin.

"I...I know this..." Sherlock said as he picked up the instrument, turning it over several times in his hands.

"It's yours." Atlas laughed from her position leaning against the desk. Sherlock gave her a blank stare, almost as if he had re-written his memory. "You gave it to me when I was little." Momentarily she paused, anxiety building in her stomach as she thought about adding the next bit. "Before you left." However she didn't seem to frown, she seemed to smile in some sort of gratifying understanding. Sherlock glanced back at her returning the smile before he put the instrument back down. John watched the interaction along with Mrs Hudson, not daring to say a word for fear of interrupting. 

"Then I believe it is not mine, but yours. If you give something, you never ask for it back." Sherlock said eventually after returning to his seat at the desk. His hands were folded over his mouth in a contemplative manner as he looked at a case on his laptop.

"And so the mystery begins." Atlas said as herself, John and Mrs Hudson joining as they looked over Sherlock's shoulder at the laptop. A photo of a dead man. This one was going to be interesting.


	7. Holding Hands and Reassurance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gunshot wounds.

ATLAS did not expect to be walking down the halls of a mental hospital. Anxious out of her mind as she walked alongside Sherlock, John walking on the other side. Her heart was so loud she could hear it thumping in her ears as they walked down the pristine hallway. All of their footsteps echoing in a contrapuntal pattern as they furthered down the hall. Sherlock had managed to bargain with Mycroft to get Atlas to come to the mental hospital. 

This hospital was one that was under Mycroft's control and not Moriarty's. It was on an island, just like it was for Eurus, however this one was much more strict and for older people. It had been many years since she had met the person she least wanted to. She'd left before Sherlock and she was frightened to say the least.

Eventually, they managed to make the end of the hallway as they stepped into Mycroft's office. As usual Sherlock didn't so much as look at him, however Atlas smiled at him nervously. 

"You will be supervised." Mycroft finally spoke as a guard entered the room. Clearly he was supervision. "I will also be with you." Sherlock and Atlas shared a knowing look before reverting their eyes back to Mycroft. Then whilst Atlas stood looking around the room, analysing much about the man who had just walked into the room, Mycroft moved over to Sherlock. "Do you not think this is a bit soon?"

"When's it ever going to be the right time?" Sherlock retorted making Mycroft stand up straight, his stern expression diminishing. Meanwhile Atlas remained stood at the side of the room, John making his way over to her.

"Are you alright Atlas?" John asked kindly, placing a hand on her shoulder as she nodded her head. Sure she was nervous but part of her needed to see why she was left so young. She already understood Sherlock's motive's but she needed to know what her mother's was. 

"I'm just a little nervous that's all." Atlas replied, smiling at him, her eyes told him that she was actually scared. 

"You don't have to do this you know." John reassured making sure she was aware of the cop out if she needed to. Atlas nodded in thanks before smiling again at the man, this time trying hard to hide her emotional eyes.

"But I do need to do it." 

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎• 

AFTER much debate it was decided that Mycroft and John would stay inside Mycroft's office, speakers and video switched on for maximum protection. That way Sherock and Atlas could speak to her mother in silence.

Her mother, Mary-Anne as she had been told she was called, was on the other side of the door. She anxiously exhaled a breath, it not going unnoticed by Sherlock who put a hand down to take hers. Squeezing it tightly the doors opened at they stepped through into the room. Between Atlas and her mother was a thick sheet of glass and she shuddered, she was so close.

"Why did you come?" The woman sat on the bed asked. She was sat cross legged looking her back to the pair of them as Atlas looked up at Sherlock expectantly.

"I wanted to meet you." Atlas explained, squeezing Sherlock's hand tighter. Her hand was going clammy.

"I'm disappointed she didn't come sooner." The woman replied as she continued to do whatever she was doing infront of her on the bed. Atlas' mouth ran dry as she began to regret even deciding to come, after all this time. 

"I would of. If I knew how to get here." Atlas replied, a hint of sass running through her teenage voice as Sherlock remained silent. He would have let her go alone, but he couldn't be sure that Mary-Anne wouldn't cause her psychological issues after having a conversation with her. 

"I thought you were supposed to be smart." Mary-Anne stated simply before standing from her bed, whatever she was doing seemingly disappearing as she moved towards the glass. It was now that Atlas realised she had inherited very little from her mother, another woman of intellect, but as for looks, there was nothing in common. "Maybe I should be glad I left."

"I'm sorry." Atlas said, confused about what she had just said to her. "Your not the only one it would seem."

"Then this won't hurt a bit." Mary-Anne said pulling a gun to her own head making Atlas and Sherlock jump. 

"No, no, stop." Sherlock pleaded his hands going out along with Atlas in a gesture to calm down. "Don't do this." 

Meanwhile the camera's had just shut off upstairs but the audio was suggesting an emergency. Both Mycroft and John made the decision to start heading to the floor.

Within moments the three of them were stood opposite each other in a triangle. Sherlock was pointing a gun at Mary-Anne and Mary-Anne at Atlas. It had quickly escalated into a complicated mess. The pair in an attempt to save Mary-Anne had managed to hack into the system and get on the other side of the glass. There, they waited as they saw each other eye to eye. 

When the shot rung out, another one went off a split second later and in an instant everything changed. Dead and cold Mary-Anne lay on the floor, blood falling from her mouth. Instant death Sherlock concluded, and then he rushed to Atlas who was lying on the floor with a gun shot wound in her stomach. 

"Hey, hey." Sherlock said approaching her, cradling her in his arms as her breath became heavy. He applied pressure to the wound to help decrease the bleeding, self criticising when she winced in pain. "It'll be alright." 

Panicking her breathing sped up, faster and faster until she couldn't stop it from being so fast. In a moment she felt like she was dying her eyes screwing up as she began to cry.

"Atlas. Look at me." Sherlock said as he shushed her, rocking gently as she looked at him. Her blue eyes stared into his own and he told her to slow her breathing. She did so, it becoming evenly matched as she whimpered in pain. 

"I won't let you die." Sherlock said his voice strained as he answered her question. 

"I know you won't." Atlas replied smiling to Sherlock as he stroked hair out of her eyes. Her breathing was as normal as you would expect for someone who was trying to stay alive after being shot. However, her humor was in tact as Mycroft and John arrived.

"Dead." Sherlock simply stated as Mycroft peered over Mary-Anne's body. Meanwhile John was at Atlas' side checking her over, he was a war doctor. He could handle a bullet wound. 

"Mycroft call an ambulance." John said after a moment or two, the weaker man rushing off to call for one. "Okay." He said soothingly as he applied a little bit of pressure, Sherlock doing his utmost to keep her conscious and keep her calm. John got to work trying to check for exit wound and other valuable pieces of information.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

AT the beginning of the day Sherlock, John and Mycroft did not expect to be sitting in a hospital ward waiting for Atlas to come out of surgery. She'd been in for around two hours as they tried to take the bullet out, but it was embedded deep. It was clear to them that they were trying. 

After one more hour the doctor came out declaring that it was a success. They had managed to effectively remove the bullet from her flesh, but she would remain unconscious for a while yet. The trio sighed before being escorted to the room where Atlas was. She had tubes attached to her in various places, needles in her hand, and then silence descended.

Sherlock being the person he was didn't move an inch, however John did taking a chair up next to hers. He seemed sad from what Sherlock could gather and Sherlock wondered if that's what the ache in his stomach and the lump in his throat was. His eyes watered and before he knew it his legs were forcing him out of the room and into the hallway. 

The foreign feeling of anger, hurt, pain, revenge, love, sadness flooded his body and he wanted to scream. It was suffocating him as he braced himself against the wall with his hand. He struggled to fight back the tears in his eyes as he felt the prescence of someone at his side. Smelling the all too familiar scent of tattered books and coffee, Sherlock knew it was John. 

"I...I should...should have stopped...stopped it. I should have..." Sherlock managed to strangle out, his mouth tearing to pull into a smile despite his face being hidden. John put one hand on his best friend's (for now. Don't @ me guys.) back in comfortable reassurance. 

"But it is what it is." John said Sherlock's crumbling face turning to look at him as he recounted what he had said to his friend some three years ago now. Instead of John being the one pushing for the hug, Sherlock went in for one, catching his best friend off guard. 

"Thank you. I've never really said how much you mean to me John." 

"For a start you wouldn't eat." 

Sherlock pulled away and they shared a smile before John suggested they reenter the room. They did so each, party taking a seat by the bed.


	8. Recovery and Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is an idea in here I got off Instagram so creds to whoever came up with it because I can't remember who.
> 
> Also, I know that a lot of foster care and adoption isn't bad and it's generally good with really good, amazing people! However, for the purpose of this story, Atlas drew the really short straw and ended up with some really un-pleasant people. In a much later chapter, I go into more detail.

FAMILY. The word had often left all of the Holmes' running for the high hills. It had done for generations, each new generation finding it harder than the previous. However, Sherlock now understood the words. He was feeling everything a father would feel when his daughter was lying unconscious in a hospital bed. She had been with him nearly a month and a half and already he was falling into the rhythm of being a father.

It was only himself and John sitting in the hospital room, Mycroft having left quite a lot earlier. John had long since gone to sleep, but he couldn't, he never could. He always found his brain to be too alert, too awake but this was not the case in this moment. He needed to be awake, just in case she woke up. Just in case.

Sherlock looked at John almost pleadingly, tears glossing unshed in his eyes. He looked helplessly around the room as the tears fell and that scared him. Crying scared him - it was a visible weakness that he couldn't bare to express. John awoke and looked at his best friend. 

"Oh Sherlock." John whispered very quietly, pulling his chair closer and slipping an arm round his shoulder. Sherlock looked at him afraid, and then it was there. The electricity he felt everytime he saw John, thought about kissing him or any romantic affection. Little did he know, John was eager to reciprocate yet Sherlock looked away before either could make any semblance of a move.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

WHEN Atlas finally awoke she was pleasantly surprised to see that Sherlock and John were both sleeping. She assessed he surrounding's spotting a clock, reading the time to be 3:30am, and she was relieved. From the dark under eye's on both the men, neither had slept much in the past few hours and both had stayed here the past few days due to the stubble covering their faces. 

Sherlock was bent over on the bed, his head lying on the mattress. John was over in a seat, slumped down but blissfully asleep. She sighed, what was she going to do with them. For now she would sleep, she still had enough morphine left to last her till doctor's round's in the morning.

When she woke again, it was 6:30am and neither of the men had woken in the time she had slept. She smiled to herself before wincing in pain as she felt her wound. It wasn't that big to her knowledge, but she knew that it was deep. Everything else felt fine, except for that headache she had, but she put that down to the medication. The bag for the drip attached to her arm was slowly emptying. 

A kind doctor entered the room before handing her a small shot like shaped glass and letting her take her medication. He slowly increased her morphine dose, then he departed leaving the group in peace. Atlas attempted to stretch for her book but failed, causing herself some pain from moving. She resolved that she would have to wait until someone could hand it to her.

Around half an hour later Sherlock began to stir, his mouth smiling slightly. Abruptly, he sat, his eyes darting around the room before he joint a look with Atlas. Then he sat with his head in his hands as he rubbed his face free of sleep. He sighed while doing so, the other side of Sherlock coming through, the kinder side.

"How long did I sleep?" Sherlock sighed silently cursing himself for falling asleep on duty. He glanced to his right and saw John sleeping, momentarily he smiled before continuing to scowl at himself. 

"Does it matter? You slept." Atlas replied, trying to remind Sherlock that he didn't normally sleep that well anyway. He shot her some narrowed eyes before smiling his goofy im-going-to-make-you-smile smile and she laughed in return. "Are you alright?"

Sherlock looked bemused, aware that he wasn't normally subject to this question he frowned in thought. "I just shot the woman I fell in love with." He paused momentarily. "But I only loved her for a while."

"You struggle to let people in." Atlas explained before glancing over to John who was smiling in his sleep. Sherlock followed her eye line before scowling again at her. 

"I'm not gay."

"Keep telling yourself that."

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

THE first visitor of the day was a very tired and angry Mrs Hudson. She bustled in with Rosie who eagerly reached out for John when the lady entered the room.

"William Sherlock Scott Holmes. I expected you to ring me." The lady hollered, whacking the man on the back in annoyance. Then her face softened, her tense posture relaxed and she approached Atlas.

"Are you aright dear?" 

"I'm fine. Thank you Mrs Hudson." Atlas thanked before Mrs Hudson continued to have a go at Sherlock for what he had done. All the while Sherlock regained his usual personality and Atlas smiled to herself as she glanced around the room. Three months ago she was so alone, more alone than she ever thought she would be. Now that she wasn't, she was relieved.

It was then she understood why Sherlock and Mrs Hudson were quite as close as they were. Now as they mentioned something about what Sherlock had done for her and what she had done for him. From what Atlas could gather Sherlock used to move around a lot and that prompted the two children to never really make any friends. This was all sparked by what she already knew about Eurus and how they had to leave after she was sent to an asylum of sorts. However Mrs Hudson was the kind lady situated in the house next door to the family on one of their many moves. One day a young Sherlock knocked on her door and asked to come inside during one of his parents many fights. She let him in, let him read the books she had on many shelfs and let him stay and drink tea. Slowly this became a common state of affairs, Sherlock going everytime he didn't feel welcome in his house. 

Later Sherlock repayed the debt to Mrs Hudson whilst she was stuck in her marriage. Sherlock put himself on the line to try and charge her husband, try and catch him out. He did so, charged on both drug selling and abuse. Currently he is serving jail time and isn't due out for quite sometime. Atlas scared herself by this analysis, all the pieces and things she'd seen suddenly coming together into one big pile that made sense. 

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

AS the afternoon arrived so did Mycroft, looking very sullen to say the least. Sherlock had mentioned once in the month prior that Mycroft may seem mentally strong but he's not as strong as he thinks that he is. Slowly he approached the bed, Rosie sleeping peacefully with John, Mrs Hudson sitting in a chair on the other side of the bed and Sherlock looking out a window. It was now that Mycroft approached the bed, each step taking more time than the last.

"How...How are you?" Mycroft questioned, his mind not fully restored from seeing what he saw. Strangely he was subdued, this was not going unnoticed by Sherlock who approached his older brother with tentative care.

"I'm fine. Thank you Mycroft." Atlas replied, everyone in the room giving immediate agreeable relapse. It was strange to see Sherlock in this light but it didn't seem to catch the attention of John and Mrs Hudson who knew that Sherlock only showed emotion and physical contact to those he really cared about. Sherlock placed a hand to his brother's shoulder, squeezing it before removing his hand.

Mycroft didn't stay long, he was literally the government so he had a lot to do. Promptly he left followed by Mrs Hudson a short time later who took Rosie with her. John had agreed that it was best for the kid to have a proper bed to sleep on and made sure that Molly went around every once in a while to check everything is alright. 

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

ATLAS' eyes opened abruptly as they darted around her bedroom, her breath quickening as she looked around. She couldn't see anything, her vision blurry for medication and her usual moderately bad eyesight. Usually she could make things out, people or items that she was familiar with. Then her eyes settled on John who was at her side, trying to help. When she saw him she settled relaxing on her side as he smiled at her.

"Do you feel alright?" John asked quietly, his profession of a doctor proving to be rather handy. It was the only way he managed to persuade them to let Atlas come home, through promises from John to look after her. 

"Yeah. I feel fine." Atlas replied feeling slightly drowsy as she looked up at John. "You don't like children. So why do you like me?"

"I'm sorry?" John asked as if he was confused, his eyebrow raising.

"Rosie is your own kid John. And you don't really like children. So why do you like me?" 

"Because your no ordinary kid and your the kid of my best friend." John answered plainly, Atlas giving him a sideways look.

"But wasn't Mary your best friend?" She asked timidly, as if she was scared she was about to get shouted at for asking that question. 80% of the foster families she lived in would have shouted at her for even asking a simple question. 90% would shout at her for deducing something about someone else in the family or calling someone out for lying, because she knew they were.

"I think I made the wrong choice." John explained sadly, knowing he didn't have to say much more for Atlas to know exactly what he meant by that.

Again she fell asleep this time awakening alone as she groaned. This time she could feel the aching pain encompassing the side of her body where she was shot. She winced as she moved to get a better look around. To her left was he bed side table, she could make that out through her blurred vision. Just beyond that was a chair, one John had occupied moments later. She turned fully onto her side and she could now see that she was not alone. 

Sherlock stood in his daughter's room plucking books off the shelf and reading the titles. He made a mental list of which books she had so that it made it easier for him to buy her a christmas present.

"Sherlock?" A voice asked, causing him to whip around and look in the direction of the voice. "Thank god. It's only you." Relief flooded out with her speech as he slowly took a seat on the chair. It was very early on, after Atlas' first dead body that he first broke the physical boundaries of a socio-path. He'd touched and hugged both Mrs Hudson, John and Rosie several times but it still took years to get to this point. In a matter of months he'd knocked down his own walls, and little did he know but he had knocked down Atlas' aswell.

"How...How are you?" Sherlock asked somewhat uncomfortably as Atlas settled some more on her side.

"Better. It's going to take a lot more than a bullet to hurt me." Atlas replied. "Words always hurt - "

"The most."

"Yes." Atlas said as she looked at Sherlock who leant forward placing his elbows on his knees. "How are you?"

"Me?"

"Yes you. You just killed the woman you once loved."

Sherlock didn't say anything except put his head in his hands and rub his face. Atlas wasn't very good at reading people's emotion's but slowly she sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. The chair that Sherlock was sat on was not far from the bed so she was now close to him. 

When Sherlock didn't lift his head from his hands she leaned forward and gave him a semi-awkward hug. It was awkward until Sherlock put his own arms around her and stroked her hair.

"Thank you." Atlas whispered.

"For what?"

"For being my dad."


	9. Prelude to Maddness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No idea if this has more ideas off of Instagram as well so if there is, credit where needed!

ALL Sherlock, John, Atlas and Rosie wanted to do was have a nice day out at the science museum. It was early December and the group had become rather restless with the slow flow of cases. Even John would admit that he was. Lestrade wasn't able to get any cases and he knew that that would mean Sherlock would turn to drugs. All it took was a phone call with a certain Atlas Holmes and they had drawn up a list of 'Things to do with Sherlock Holmes to keep him off the sweets.' 

Fortunately for Atlas she knew that she could persuade Sherlock to go to a space museum by insisting that he didn't know everything. She had heard John and Mycroft joke many times about the earth going around the sun theory and she knew that this was just what they needed. And as for herself? She quite fancied being an astronomer.

The group swerved through crowds to the section about the planet Jupiter and it's many rings and many moons. Unusually nobody in the museum had approached Sherlock for a photo or autograph yet but that didn't mean it wasn't going to happen. They were messing around with these silver balls, putting them down a spiral bowl and watching there movements as they went. 

Then Rosie's eyes caught sight of something she deemed much more interesting and she started to run over to it. John then ran on after her, making sure he couldn't lose her among the hoards of people. Leaving Atlas and Sherlock alone wandering quite what to do with themselves. 

"No-one's asked for your signature yet." Atlas stated plainly, knowing that if she didn't state it soon Sherlock would have likely tried to guess it anyway. Smiling goofily Sherlock faked a laugh before his eyes caught sight of something else. Atlas turned around and ended up coming face to face with Inspector Lestrade.

"Inspector Lestrade! Nice to see you again." Atlas courteously said producing a hand for the man to shake. He did so his eyes not breaking the gaze as she shook it rather ferociously. "I assume your here with your two kids?" It was now that the puzzle pieces were finally starting to interlock together and make a bigger picture. The reason she looked like Sherlock, how she knew that he was an Inspector and had two kids even when he hadn't told her.

"Your...your a Holmes?" Lestrade asked, shock laced in his voice. Atlas rolled her eyes in response as two young children came running up behind him. A young blonde haired girl and a light brown haired girl came up behind him. The blonde girl looked about five and the other one around four. 

"We should get you an award." Atlas joked, Lestrade squaring his eyebrows before realising he wasn't about to get an explanation. A few moments later one of his daughter's was tugging at his trouser leg and he made his departure.

Sherlock assumed his position next to Atlas. "That has to be the fastest he has realised something." Atlas looked up at him smiling as he gave her a smirk in return. "I know what your doing by the way." Sherlock added causing Atlas to give him a quizzical look.

"I would say I don't know what you mean, but I know you would find out that I do." Atas agreed instantly, he grin showing some teeth. Then she frowned as she willed herself to explain in slightly more depth. "Lestrade told me that unless we find a way to occupy you you'll-"

"I'll go back on the drugs."

"Yes."

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

THAT evening on their way home from 221B Atlas insisted on nipping into a shop the street over from the flat. She went inside her eyes studying the tows of fruits and vegetables, trying to find what she was looking for. Sherlock was lost among the aisles of miscellaneous items, whilst John was occupying Rosie with looking at all the magazines and newspapers on display.

Finding what she had been looking for, Atlas placed it in her basket, before proceeding to look at prawns, then pasta, before finally finding some chillies. Then, with a minute amount of the money left to her by her mother she purchased the ingredients before gesturing for the others to follow.

"What are you up to?" John asked quizically as he tried his best to cast his mind back to anything Atlas may have mentioned.

"She's cooking tea. She was cleaning up my experiments off the table yesterday. And took the eyes out the oven and put them in the cupboard. Totally ruining the experiment I had set up." Sherlock somewhat whined before John gave him a look and they began their walk to their flat.

Mrs Hudson was rather chuffed with herself as she looked at the table. She'd managed to clean it up quite nicely and get it to look slightly better than it originally had. When Atlas had queried her in the morning about cooking for John and Sherlock, Mrs Hudson replied that they often ate out. Atlas then - as a mark of gratitude - invited the woman to join them that evening with their meal.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

ATLAS neatly placed a piece of basil onto the top of each bowl of prawn pasta before taking a step back to assess her work. Smiling she picked up the smaller bowl for Rosie and another bowl and entered into the living room where Mrs Hudson had moved the table to previously. She was pleasantly surprised to see that Sherlock was not drinking, impressed that he was making the effort. John and Mrs Hudson were sharing a bottle of red whilst candles adorned the table. Atlas made a mental note to appreciate Mrs Hudson a lot more often than what she currently did.

"Thank you." Rosie grinned as she looked at her plate before Atlas gave the other bowl to Mrs Hudson. Mrs Hudson thanked her before she went to retrieve the other bowls.

Once everyone was served and settled the conversation at the table begun. But not before Atlas laid down some rules.

"I have some rules." Atlas announced. "Nothing violent or rude." Atlas began giving a generalised look around the table. "Nothing historical or operation based unless relevant." Atlas continued looking at John. "Nothing about drug dealers or sex." Then she looked at Mrs Hudson. "And lastly, nothing about cases or cadavers." Atlas said before turning to look at Sherlock who grumbled in response.

"She's right. No work at the table." Mrs Hudson supported, her face smirking as she stared straight at John who was about to plead not guilty but thought better of it.

"Fine. Then I have a rule for you." Sherlock said. "Nothing about Shakespeare."

"Fine."

For the first time in ages the group were finally able to sit down and have an undisturbed meal. Be able to talk genuinely to one another and laugh. Atlas wasn't alone here like she was with the Maloney's or the Harrison's. She was home. She wasn't at fear of being beaten or shouted at like she was at the Patterson's or the Brown's. She was safe. And lastly she didn't fear for her life and sanity like she did when she stayed with the Morrison's and Sangster's. 

She smiled as she reminisced and looked around the table. Everyone was happy and she felt like she was watching from the clouds. People in the world finally care about her. And she couldn't be happier.


	10. A Christmas Tree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apologies in advance. All these chapters are pre-written meaning this was written over the christmas period. 
> 
> I know my writing is more shit than my plot lines but my main reason for even putting this book up is so I can retrieve all my work in the future.
> 
> Sex references.

THEY weaved their way through aisles upon aisles of Christmas trees, decorations and other interesting items. The London christmas market was always interesting and as Rosie clutched onto John's hand they effectively dodged people. Some were walking around with mulled wine, whilst others chatted eagerly at steak bars across the street. They had come with the intention of getting a christmas tree - preferably plastic - and decorations. Purely Atlas' idea, it being her first opportunity to really have one. The sludge of slow made for an icy route, but they made it to the secluded plastic Christmas tree stall. There, they selected a dark green one for purchase before going off to look at baubles.

A set of red baubles immediately attracted Rosie who made a beeline for them, moving faster than any of them could keep up with her.

"You like those ones?" John asked, Rosie nodding once as Sherlock gave a little chuckle. The christmas tree would be delivered tomorrow, therefore they would need to make sure they had something to decorate it with. The bauble stall held all sorts of colour that at any other time of the year would create an eye sore.

"We need some more. Sherlock's bought a big tree." John said, Rosie giggling and looking up at Sherlock. She grabbed the younger mans hand and led him to some baubles as he helped her look at them. They came back to Atlas and John with baubles of an assortment of colours before they headed to the lights stall. 

"How about these?" Atlas asked, holding up a box of brightly coloured lights that were battery pack lights. This was good as for most of the plugs in the flat had already been commandeered in one way or another. 

"They'll do." John smiled, taking them from Atlas. They moved around all the stalls, eagerly exploring the different options for their tree.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

TOGETHER, they walked back, each person carrying a lot - other than Rosie who was carrying the baubles she had been drawn to. They headed down some streets and alleyways, before a man, who obviously recognised Sherlock careered across the road towards them.

"I don't believe it." He slurred, still staggering towards them. "Sherlock Holmes." 

Sherlock stood, his face blank until who the man was registered across his face. Before, the man could get super close a woman appeared and stood next to him. Pretty, blonde and blue eyed. 

"What was it we called you?" The man asked again, his speech slurring uncontrollably.

"Virgin Holmes." Sherlock said under his breath, as he faced the man.

"That was it. Virgin Holmes, Virgin, gay-ass, dickbrain, faulty tower. Bet your still a damn virgin." The man laughed, the woman beside him doing similar. Atlas however, smirked at that thought. You had both stupid and extremely stupid in this world.

"Alright. Enough." John said moving to stand between Sherlock and the man. "I don't know who you are, or what your doing here, but would you mind letting us get home." 

"Sorry sir. Was just letting sickbrain know his place again." The man sneered before verging away, Atlas and John both wishing the slippery ground to cause the man some injury. However, not a moment later, he was back, Sherlock dropping his eyes to his feet.

"This must be your devil spawn. So you can't be a virgin. Thought you were gay though, must be an accident." He joked gesturing to Atlas, who smirked at him, like she knew what do to next. "Just like your father eh?"

"I wouldn't do th-" John began but before he could finish his piece Atlas spoke up.

"Wife recently left you. Took the kids. Living in the south of France. You don't see them. She left you because she walked in on you having a foursome - ooh bet that was awkies. Just lost your job aswell, despite what Marcella Newtsworthy here thinks of that. Your struggling mentally, particularly because the divorce papers just came through." Atlas stopped herself, realising she may have been a little inappropriate before she pulled out a piece of paper from her pocket and scribbled down a number. "Ring them, they'll help you out." 

"Bitch." He said before he swayed away, the groups of four walking on, some what empowered. Yet John made a mental note to talk to Sherlock about that man.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

MRS HUDSON and Atlas and Rosie decorated the tree with baubles after Sherlock had managed to get the lights on. Sherlock, however, was stood in the kitchen by the sink, watching a teabag create swirls of brown down the plug hole.

"Sherlock." John said, coming in and standing by his friend. He put a hand in his shoulder as he put his mug into the sink then stayed when Sherlock didn't speak. "Are you alright?"

"Yes." The tall man replied, his eyes trained on the teabag. He sounded so small, like he wanted to curl up into a ball and stay there.

"Your not." John said reassuringly, Sherlock looking at him once. The spark was there again, he wanted to. By God did he want to, he just didn't know if John wanted to.

"You don't think it's weird?" Sherlock whispered, knuckles growing white as he gripped the sink. 

"What?" John said quietly. "I don't think anything about you is weird Sherlock."

"I'm gay but I've never had sex with a guy." He admitted quietly, looking back at John softly. John looked at him kindly, understanding."I've obviously been with a woman. But I've never actually been with a guy." 

"That's not weird." John reassured, stretching their boundaries further as he put an arm around Sherlock's back in reassurance. 

"I just, I'm afraid. Of doing it wrong. Of thinking." Sherlock admitted, the poor man looking like he was about to cry. "I just want it to be with the right person." _I want it to be with you._

"I know." John reassured, squeezing Sherlock's shoulder, his friend sighing in return. This was new territory, something that Sherlock had never spoken about before with John. Almost as if he was too ashamed to do so, as if it could ruin it all. But right now, John felt little butterflies in his stomach as he looked at the impossible man. The man who was so afraid of overthinking something that should be felt. And in that moment, John wanted to be the one that was first. To take his time and make sure Sherlock was comfortable with every step they would take.


	11. Mycroft Is Unsurprisingly Good At Baking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My timetabling is rubbish. So please, if you spot any problems with it leave a comment and I'll go in and fix it!

MYCROFT always liked to bake. He would bake for every occasion and then the lonely and often depressed man would sit down and eat whatever he had made.

Atlas had grown increasingly close to Mycroft as he seemed to know how to understand her and when Sherlock got too much. It was the 20th of December and Mycroft was bored, alone and feeling somewhat sad, that was until his phone rang. The caller ID came up as "Pick Up The Phone" and he chuckled as he answered. Atlas was forever changing the ID's of people on people's phones for a laugh. Passwords couldn't stop her.

"My dear. To what do I owe the pleasure?" Mycroft asked on the other side of the line. 

"I'm bored Mycroft." Atlas groaned on the other side of the line. There was a pause before a rustle and an excited chirp. "I bought some ingredients. Can I come over and bake?" There was silence. "Please, John and Sherlock have gone out on a case and they told me I couldn't go."

"Where's Rosie?" Mycroft asked, sighing as he collected his papers together and filed them away.

"At nursery till three. And then Mrs Hudson is picking her up." Atlas said into the phone, desperate to go and hang out with her favourite uncle.

"Fine. I'll send someone round to pick you up." 

"I'll walk it'll only take 15 minutes, max." Atlas replied before gathering her ingredients into her rucksack satchel bag. She grabbed her red coat that was long and stopped just at the back of the knee, perfect to avoid the winter chill. It bared resemblance to Sherlock's and was wearing a pair of red high tops. Then she chucked on her satchel and left the house, a note being left on the table. 

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

"MYCROFT." Atlas sang as she meandered through the halls of his well established home. She passed a christmas tree into the main entrance to find her uncle waiting for her in the kitchen. Then upon seeing him she put her satchel down onto he counter and put on an apron.

"What wonderful ingredients have you brought this time?" Mycroft asked as he remembered the last time. Atlas and him were baking in Sherlock's flat, when she went to look for some currants for the scones. Spiders fell out the packet, hundreds of them scattering into all corners and when she then proceeded to look elsewhere she found pigs eyeballs. 

"I have brought ginger and chocolate chips in milk, white and dark." Atlas explained as she tied her apron round her back, wincing slightly as it stretched her still healing shot wound. It didn't go unnoticed by Mycroft however he didn't comment.

Mycroft joined Atlas in putting on an apron and washing his hands before he made his way over to the counter.

"What are we going to make?" Atlas asked her uncle inquisatively as he flicked through one of his many tattered recipe booklets.

"Something simple I feel. Let's make ginger and chocolate chip cookies." Mycroft said once he had opened his recipe to an appropriate page and the pair got to work.

"Can we play a game while we bake?" Atlas asked curiously as she had a few burning questions she desired to ask Mycroft.

Mycroft gave her a sceptical look before giving in. "Fine." Pause. "But what do you have in mind?"

"Questions."

"Let's hear them then."

"Okay I ask first." Atlas said as she pulled the measuring scales out from a cupboard. "Why do you like baking so much?" 

Mycroft furrowed his brow a little. "Comfort. When the goings got tough I'd bake. But most of all I would bake for Sherlock, it used to make him happy."

"It still does." Atlas slipped in slightly as Mycroft gave her a look of disbelief. It meant something that his baking was still important to his little brother. 

"My turn." Mycroft said measuring out some sugar. "What's your favourite book?"

"Cloud Atlas or The Book Thief." Atlas replied with determination. "Not only does one of the titles have my name in it but they are both good. The Book Thief is heartwarming however Cloud Atlas is incredibly philosophical." 

"Does this go in here?" Atlas asked as she paused about to put the sugar into a bowl. Mycroft nodded in reply after thoroughly checking the instructions. "What happened to Eurus?" 

"She...well...she died. We kept her in a facility and then she died. We...uhh...she committed suicide. We weren't expecting her to but she managed anyway." Mycroft answered as he began to mix some of the ingredients together. He was lying. She could tell by the way he was behaving, two bets she was alive and staying in his house. "What's your full name?"

"Ida Atlas Elizabeth Holmes." Atlas replied as she began measuring out the chocolate chips she had brought.

"Ahh. You chose to go by Atlas before Sherlock met you. That means that despite you never seeing Sherlock you still managed to keep up our tradition."

"Tradition?"

"Sherlock goes by one of his middle names. I go by one of mine and Eurus went by one of hers." Mycroft answered.

"Sherlock's name is, William Sherlock Scott Holmes right?" Atlas asked.

"Yes. And I am Alexander Mycroft Chad Holmes. Hate the Chad. And Eurus was Jessica Eurus Tiffany Holmes." Mycroft replied smoothly as the chocolate chips were finally added the he main batter. 

"The second names are all alot better. Though I must admit I think Sherlock got the best straw out of all of you." Atlas said. "Even if Sherlock is a girls name."

"You don't say." Mycroft chuckled in response to what Atlas had said. "But Sherlock and your mother were good at choosing your names."

"I particularly like Ida, but Atlas is more unusual." Atlas explained to her uncle as she put her hands in the batter ready to make the cookies. 

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

THE pair sat at the kitchen table, the cookies still steaming on the metal rail. Atlas looked at Mycroft who was staring into space, clearly thinking hard about something.

"I'm sorry Mycroft." Atlas spoke up suddenly making the man furrow his brow in confusion. It was clear from the moment he met her that she was smart, smarter than initially expected. 

"For what?" 

"About Eurus. About how people used to treat you. It baffles me at how cruel people can be towards those who are smarter." Atlas explained easily, each word rolling off her tongue in semi anger. She was frustrated that people could behave like that, instead of embracing the smart they were envious. They would put them down to raise themselves higher on their self depreciation. 

"You don't need to apologise." Mycroft replied looking at his niece, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Now. How about we put these cookies into bags to give people for christmas?"

"We have got a lot." Atlas replied as she glanced over the table. "Yeah, I think we should."

Atlas stood from her position and wrote a list of people to give cookies to for christmas.

The list read:  
• Mrs Hudson  
• Lestrade  
• Molly Hooper  
• ~~Anderson~~   
• Timothy and Wanda  
• John  
• Mycroft  
• 221B

John got his own bag, as Atlas put it "Because he lives with cookie monsters. Particularly, cough, cough, Sherlock." 

Once the list was complete the pair spent half an hour wrapping the cookies up neatly and finishing them off with a red bow. Each one had a label attached and Atlas put all of them in her bag, except for the ones for Timothy and Wanda. They would go with Mycroft when they saw them in a few days time for christmas.


	12. Redbeard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dog is like the one in the series.

IT was the 23rd and Atlas was bubbling in excitement. Every Christmas decoration they could find had been dusted off and placed in their appropriate places. She had played enough carols on the piano till it was bleeding out her ears. However, she had yet to meet her present for Sherlock and she insisted upon ringing Mycroft, that she had to. John had already bought Sherlock his present and was completely unaware of the plans, however Mrs Hudson wasn't.

"Mrs Hudson!" Atlas whisper shouted down the hallway at the bottom of the flat. "Mrs Hudson!"

"What are you shouting for?" Mrs Hudson asked bustling down the hallway to greet the girl. Atlas was in her short burgundy coat with a light grey beanie.

"I'm not shouting, I'm whisper shouting." Atlas replied in return. "I'm going to see Mycroft." She leaned forward and but her mouth next to Mrs Hudson's ear before whispering. "Im going to see the dog. Do you want to come with me?"

Mrs Hudson raised her eyebrows before Atlas gave her a pleading look.

"Oh alright." The older lady said as she collected her jacket and scarf and departed the flat with the girl. Luckily for all of them the press had laid off about Atlas because it was nearing Christmas - although she figured that Mycroft probably put a word forward to the press.

Atlas and Mrs Hudson began to make a move to the bus stop, glancing idly at the christmas lights and decorations that adorned each shop. It was nearing 2pm and the hustle and bustle of shoppers was only just starting to arise. Once at the bus stop they waited before taking the two minute bus journey to Mycroft's home.

Mrs Hudson had not realised that the brother of Sherlock lived in quite such a grand home. And then she mentally cursed herself for not remembering sooner that Mycroft _was_ technically the government. The large doors stood before them and Atlas tentivaley knocked before entering the established home. Everything was the same as it had been just a day earlier.

"Mycroft!" Atlas said aloud before repeating it louder. "Mycroft!"

"My dear." Mycroft said entering from behind a door that was covered by an elaborate pink curtain. "Stop shouting."

"You weren't answering, Uncle." Atlas mocked before sharing a look with Mrs Hudson who shrugged. 

"I'm also here to tell you about travel arrangements tommorow." Atlas explained, Mycroft assuming the current state of affairs. Atlas removed her hat, gloves and jacket and hung them on the rack before taking Mrs Hudson's.

"Travel arrangements are often a reluctant discussion that I have with my brother every year." Mycroft explained somewhat solemnly, as if he wished it to be another way. 

"Myself, John, Sherlock and Rosie will be going first thing in the morning together." Atlas explained as the group made their way into a cozy seating area with a fire.

"I see." Mycroft said unsurprised. 

"Mrs Hudson and I have discussed it and we both think it best for you to take her to Timothy and Wanda's." Atlas explained, Mycroft receiving a steely glare from Mrs Hudson. "You'll also have to take the dog and the cookies."

"Fine but only because I like you, Atlas." Mycroft said disdained before finally taking the hint that tea was required with cookies from the day before.

"Oh and by the way, we need you to be thoroughly prepared for any situation we may find ourselves in."  
Atlas left her uncle with a wink before seating herself next to Mrs Hudson. 

Earlier in the week Atlas had ordered a dog collar that was dark blue - note that it was infact the colour of Sherlock's scarf. In specific request she asked for it to come with a metal tag that had 'redbeard' engraved on it with who to call and where to find his owners. It was also around this time that Mycroft revealed that the dog was infact a large one and very similar to the one Sherlock had fantasised about having all his life.

"May we see this dog?" Atlas asked after Mycroft, herself and Mrs Hudson had been sat by the warmth of the fire a while.

"He's out in the kennels so you'll have to put your jackets on." Mycroft said somewhat bitterly but nevertheless he was letting them see the dog.

"Okay." Atlas said eagerly.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

"THERE you go." Mycroft said gesturing to a pen in his kennels. He kept his estate dogs in here, and of course if dogs are used in hunting they are only allowed to retrieve the animal.

"Thank you." Atlas said before she peeped through the cage door. Inside a light brown/ginger dog was lying on a mat quite peacefully. Slowly she entered the dog eyeing her up before getting to it's feet, his tail wagging in circles.

Atlas stroked the dogs head, squatting down to the same height as the dog. She rubbed the dogs head as he licked her face. 

"Sit." The dog did so and Atlas assumed that he had been well trained and well loved before she found him on the RSPCA website.  
"Paw." The dog presented a paw for her and when asked for the other one he presented it aswell.  
"Lie down." And again the well behaved dog did so, his face almost grinning in his eagerness to please. 

However, when the dog was asked to roll over he just lay there cocking his head to the side as he stared at her. It was obvious that that was as far as his training went but Atlas didn't mind. 

"I think Sherlock's going to like you." Atlas said giving the dog a chin rub before Mrs Hudson joined her. They both agreed, John and Rosie were going to like him aswell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These are short. I'm sorry.


	13. Sherlock's Navigating Skills

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My, my, my this is a cringe fest.

IT wasn't a long drive to Sherlock's parents house, but it would be due to traffic. You can't imagine somewhere to be busy on Christmas Eve, shoppers piling into every shop on the high street. Then you haven't met the British, unorganised to the point where last minute shopping is swiftly creeping into fashion and last minute deals are certainly not a strange set of affairs. 

So as consequence of much expected delays the unit of four left at approximately 9am with the ambition of reaching Timothy and Wanda's for 12. Sherlock had insisted on using a map so he could plot the best route despite John's arguement that a sat nav or google maps would be much more efficient. The pair, from Atlas' observation, often argued like a married couple and often loved each other like a married couple. Throughout her time staying with them she would drop hints that they were _totally gay_ and that they should maybe _exit the closet._

That morning Atlas helped John pack the car as she could see how to pack it. It was a puzzle she could solve within moments. She also was painfully aware she would have to pack a lot lighter as she was the only one who knew they would be taking a dog home with them. The day prior, during Atlas' and Mrs Hudson's visit she asked if Mycroft could take the presents to his parents house for her. He said yes as he was growing ever gullible to this girl who he saw as family. 

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

AT precisely 10:35am Rosie promptly looked at Atlas who nodded in response to her non-verbal statement.

"Rosie's hungry." Atlas said before looking back at the girl who she could confidently call her sibling. No-one knew why Rosie had an unwillingness to talk, but she did. And it wasn't like she couldn't speak or she didn't practice because she could often be found talking to her soft toy animals as she read them stories. It was just humans, she wouldn't speak to humans unless absolutely necessary.

"Okay, I'll keep an eye out for a service station." John replied in response to Atlas. For the car journey so far they had blasted Christmas songs through bluetooth from Atlas' phone. "Also...Sherlock over here fell asleep just as we left the motorway."

John was gesturing to Sherlock who had been dead to the world for forty minutes solid. It wasn't surprising seeing as the man hardly slept. However the man did sleep more now that Atlas was living with them and now that Rosie was starting to get a little older.

"No need to look for a service station. I have muffins and apples to put us on. I also brought a flask with tea and coffee in reusable boxes." Atlas said and in that moment everyone became extremely grateful that at least one of them could be prepared. 

Fifteen minutes later John pulled into a parking layby before nudging Sherlock. When he didn't stir Atlas made the executive decision to get out the car and open the door. The man who had his seatbelt fastened was jolted awake by feeling as though he was falling. He looked up to see Atlas smirking as he more or less hung out of the car.

"Why've...why've we stopped?" Sherlock asked bewildered as he pulled himself back into his seat and undid his seat belt.

"Rosie's hungry and Atlas brought food so we're sitting at the picnic bench and having something to eat." John said before he himself exited the car before opening the door for Rosie.

"Fly." Atlas corrected John as they made their way over to the picnic bench. She figured she would have to explain after recieveing three blank faces. "Some areas in Scotland call something to eat in either the morning or afternoon fly. Sometimes fly cup. It's more common in the highlands and north east though."

"Where'd you learn that?" John asked bemused as they seated themselves at a picnic bench.

"When I was in Edinburgh I had a friend who had lived in Aberdeen who told me." Atlas explained.

"You nor Sherlock have ever explained how you ended up in Scotland."

"My mother was scottish, although I wouldn't expect you to know. As soon as she went a little loopy...well...she lost any form of accent except that she sounded mildly British." Atlas explained as retrieved triple chocolate muffins from her bag and some apples. "I stayed in Edinburgh with her while Sherlock ran cases here in London. Sherlock came back to see us often, but the money went quick because of that. Then one day when Sherlock was out...well..."

"She tried to smother Atlas in clothes. I came back in time. Looked after Atlas for a few years. Couldn't look after her, placed her in care. The end. No more discussion." Sherlock said frustrated, emphasising that this was clearly a touchy subject to himself. 

"There are more things in heaven and earth." Atlas began, often reciting quotes when there were moments of stress amongst a crowd.

"Than are dreamt of in your philosophy. It fits the Holmes'." Rosie finished. At a tender age of four she could already recite a number of books, poetry, short stories, plays and authors. As if she has enhanced memory. It then became apparent that it was he first words to most that sat around the table. They tried not to make a big deal of it, but they became ecstatic. It also became apparent at the fast becoming _family_ might just be a _smart_ family. John was a doctor so unbelievably medically smart, Sherlock was just...well _smart...,_ Rosie had some sort of enhanced memory and Atlas? Well Atlas was just like her father only she found emotions easier and flourished in analysing writing.

"Do you want a muffin?" Atlas asked Rosie who nodded as she handed one to her. 

"Before we travel any further, all of you have remembered your presents for people I hope?" John said quietly. Atlas put her ear down to Rosie's mouth after the younger girl had tugged on her sleeve. 

"Is the dog from me aswell?" Rosie asked before her large blue eyes stared up Atlas' own. Atlas nodded in reply before furrowing her brows in response. She wondered how Rosie had figured out before dropping the thought, she was always knowing of things.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

IT was around 11:50am when the group arrived at Timothy and Wanda's beating Mycroft, Mrs Hudson and the dog. Sherlock smirked upon seeing that they were indeed first and when his laughing became rather hysterical everyone made it their cue to depart the car.

Timothy and Wanda were already making their way down the pathway of the house when the group were emptying their car. They'd met Rosie countless times, the last time they saw her Wanda read her a lengthy book about the Pacific and pirates. However, Atlas remembered her falling asleep not long into it. Despite most four year olds being excitable, Rosie was partial to a nap even yet and Atlas sympathized with her. She often took afternoon naps aswell.

"Hello. Hello." Wanda said as she hustled down the path in the direction of Sherlock. She cupped her sons face as he tried to push her hands away, but she wouldn't take it. "Oh Sherlock you look tired."

"You should've seen him. Sleeping Beauty half of the way here." Atlas smirked as she made her way up to round the back of him, her red bag on her back.

"And Atlas so lovely to see you too." Wanda said as she took Atlas into an unsuspecting hug. However, she didn't shy away from it, she seemed to be okay. Timothy soon joined his wife in greeting his son and granddaughter as Wanda moved on to meet John.

"Lovely to see you Wanda." John said as he recieved a hug from the woman. 

"Lovely to see you too." Wanda replies. Of course Sherlock hadn't told her that he would be joining him in his travels back to his parents but she already knew. She'd already laid places for him and Rosie, his arrival was expected. She knew in herself about her son living in the closet so to speak - both herself and Timothy had known for years.

Rosie bounded up to Wanda with outstretched arms, her bag bouncing on her back.

"Hello dear." The woman chimed, squatting down to her height and taking the girl into her arms. The girl then pecked her cheek before bouncing her way off to Timothy and doing more of the same. "She's going to be a firecracker." 

John stood smiling at Wanda before giving a chuckle. He watched as Timothy picked her small body and lifted her onto his hip. She was, in truth, beginning to be too old for it but he smiled as he watched the old man show her his flowers. An inquisitive hand reached out to a rose and Timothy recited the Latin names for everything she asked about.

"You've beaten Mycroft, that'll please you, Sherlock." Wanda said glancing in Sherlock's direction as he nodded. Atlas studied the behaviours as she connected the dots.

Sherlock, loved his mum and dad, that was clear as day. His parents however had reversed roles, it was his father who would comfort him, his mother who would show him the ropes of life. It was strange, but not unconventional. Estranged but not silly.

"I'll show you to your rooms." Timothy said as he progressed to show them all where they would be spending the next three nights. Rosie and Atlas were in a cosy room together, which Atlas didn't mind one bit. The house was larger than one may expect and seemed to exude happiness and rays of sunshine - Atlas pondered the thought that Timothy may have been the one to decorate the walls and choose the colours.

Sherlock and Mycroft would be sharing a room, John was on a put up bed in the living room whilst Mrs Hudson would be getting the last guest bedroom in the house left over. 

After much discussion with Timothy and Wanda the following schedule was arranged. Seeing as Rosie still believed in Santa it was imperative that they kept up the tradition she'd followed every year. In addition, Atlas would have to receive them too so that Rosie could believe that she still got them because Atlas was still a child. 

_The schedule went as follows:_

_• At approx 8am: Santa presents for Atlas and Rosie_   
_• 1pm: Christmas Dinner_   
_• 3pm: Queens Speech_   
_• 3:30pm: Presents from beneath the tree._

Atlas smiled. It was her first Christmas being just a little bit free. And she smiled. This was going to be the best christmas yet - she was sure of it.


	14. Late Night Walks and Talks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Again, please tell me if there are any inconsistencies with timings of things - particularly as this story progresses.

THAT evening after Mycroft and Mrs Hudson had arrived and Atlas and Rosie had gone to bed everyone settled into the living room.

"I'm off to bed." Mrs Hudson declared promptly as she set off for the suite. 

"And I best be off aswell." Mycroft declared. In reality he was checking the dog would be alright for one night in the car before going to do his skincare routine in the bathroom.

"Shall we go on a walk?" Sherlock queried. "I need to clear my head."

"To whom is that addressed?" Wanda asked, knowing better than to jump to conclusions when it came to Sherlock.

"You. Care to join me on my evening ramble." Sherlock asked kindly before his mother nodded and got up from her seated position. Timothy and Wanda shared a look before she left the living room to prepare for the cold British air.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

"DO you drink whisky?" Timothy asked as headed for a closed cupboard situated in the corner of the room. Previously Timothy had asked John a variety of questions, particularly about the war.

"Yes. I do." John replied somewhat taken aback by the mans offerings.

"Ahh...Ardbeg. That'll do nicely." Timothy said as he rose from his hunched position retrieving glasses from the same cupboard. He poured some out before collecting some water from the kitchen to weaken it slightly.

"Thank you." John replied taking it happily as the man sat down opposite him.

"Now, on a more serious note. Sherlock." Timothy explained swilling the whisky inside his glass into an endless whirlpool of alcohol.

"Yeah...Sherlock?" John replied in response. 

"Yes. How has he been?"

"He's been fine."

"Has he been seeing anyone?"

"No. There's been nobody."

"Hmm." Pause. "How's your relationship going?"

"Good. We're good friends."

"That's not what I meant."

"I'm not gay." 

"Who are you trying to convince? Me or yourself?"

"I'm not gay."

John thought about it some more. He wasn't gay, he was sure of it, but there was something in his mind telling him off for being silly, for being stupid. For not listening. It was now he pondered over the day he was put in the bonfire and he wondered who had the idea to go looking for him.

Unbeknownst to him it was Sherlock. And Sherlock had tears in his eyes, not Mary. Never Mary. Mary made him feel wonderful but if his head wasn't so screwed up maybe his heart would have led him in a different direction.

Then he remembered the hospital, the electricity jumping between them as Sherlock heaved sobs over his broken daughter. He remembered the same feeling the day they bought the christmas tree and then he frowned, took a swig of whisky and gulped. Oh shit.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

SHERLOCK and his mother had been walking in thoughtful silence for quarter of an hour now. Moonlit ground paved a pathway for absent torches. Trees smiled gayly at the once common trespasser through the woods upon his return. 

Wanda Holmes was a lucky woman, and she knew it. She knew it better than anyone. Most outsiders would frown upon her, her marriage, her unconventional family. Now as she walked next to her youngest son and middle child she thought about him. Solely him. It had been a while since she had seen Sherlock but he never changed. He was always the same.

"How have you been Sherlock?" Wanda asked as she linked arms with him. He didn't push her away, instead he basked in her momentary company.

"I've been fine. You know what it's like. Here. There. Everywhere." Sherlock replied trying his best to sound as normal of a human being as normal.

"That's not true though is it?"

Sherlock groaned in reply. "No. It's shit."

Wanda slapped her son hard on the arm for swearing as he reeled backwards.

"Sorry."

"How's Atlas?" Wanda asked, her mouth turning upwards slightly at the thought. Herself and Timothy knew Sherlock had a kid, but through much discussion they knew it was best to not tell Mycroft. They'd met Atlas the day she was born and seen her until the age of seven before Sherlock gave her up for adoption. There were no photos of them with her. Then all ties were severed. It was a pure stroke of luck that Atlas had run away from her foster placement in search for Sherlock. In some ways they were indebted to their oldest son for his quick discussion with the adoption agencies to allow Atlas to stay. It wasn't easy but something obviously gave her the motivation to achieve it. 

"She's alright. Smart. And plus Rosie won't speak to anyone but her really. Although today was the first day she had really said anything more than a single word out loud." Sherlock explained, everything gushing out of him with a pride he'd never experienced before.

"How's John?" Wanda asked, treading carefully.

"Great. He's my friend. I finally have a friend in life." Sherlock said.

A few moments later the linked pair achieved the bench by the stream. A teenage Sherlock could often be found here admiring the world or studying books upon books of random facts for his hard drive. 

"I don't want to alarm you." Sherlock said as he looked up from his hunched over position on the bench. "And this is going to be the least robotic and most human like thing I'm ever going to say." _Deep breath. You've got this Sherlock._   
"I'm gay."

Wanda hesitated a moment before replying. "I know."

"Yeah. Yeah. I thought you would." Sherlock agreed, relived as tears flooded his eyes. He was finally free of the heavy weight.

"And it's John." Wanda attempted. "Isnt it?"

"It's always been John."

Wanda placed a hand to her sons back in gentle reassurance. And Sherlock knew it. He loved that man. 

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

ATLAS and Rosie had already seen to putting their stockings by the feet of their beds. Rosie was awake and she knew she shouldn't be. Slowly she creeped out of her bed and nudged Atlas who was sleeping on a mattress on the floor.

"Huh?" Atlas said as she turned over coming face to face with Rosie. Who slowly, without speaking as usual, crept under the covers next to her. 

Then she fell asleep.

Sherlock and John checked in on them that evening smiling as Atlas had an arm around Rosie as she slept. Like an older sibling would she hadn't grumbled or attempted to push her away. She just lay there quiet.

Sherlock and John shared a glance and they knew, this christmas would be like no other.


	15. The Barriers Are Breaking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know it's shit.
> 
> And also quick disclaimer! I'm aware that most foster homes and adoption placements are not like this!
> 
> I promise, I can spell, like really well, I just don't edit any of these lol.

ROSIE sat abruptly. The clock read 7am.

_Personal record._

She'd never slept that late before on Christmas Day and she didn't know what had caused it. Slowly her eyes caught sight of Atlas, who was sat on the bed next to the light, reading a book.

"Since 6am." Atlas replied to Rosie's unvoiced question. Atlas lay her book on the bedside table and approached her rucksack. Inside were her clothes. It looked empty and felt light without the presents she had now placed underneath the tree. She pulled out her red fair isle christmas jumper along with the rest of her clothing and entered the bathroom down the hall. There she changed whilst Rosie changed in their bedroom. 

"Are you excited?" Atlas asked Rosie who eagerly nodded her head before plonking herself down on the floor. She scooted against Atlas' legs in request for her hair to be brushed. "One, two or three?" 

Rosie held up two fingers in reply. This meant she wanted two French platts. A reply of one would be one french Platt and a three meant that she didn't want anything. Rosie had the best light brown hair, Atlas had ever had the pleasure of platting. When she had finished Rosie jumped up and gave her a hug.

"Shall we go and see if Sherlock and your dad are awake yet?" Atlas asked, Rosie nodded and she escorted her out of the bedroom. Instead of going to the bedroom, Rosie led her down the stairs. Atlas knew that if either of them would be up they'd be downstairs.

"Our stockings!" Rosie shrieked as she darted back up the stairs before coming back down even faster.

"Thank you Rosie." Rosie nodded before the pair appeared in the kitchen. Wanda was already at work cutting vegetables for the day.

"Wanda?" Atlas asked approaching her grandmother. 

"Hmmm?"

"Is anyone awake yet?" Atlas asked.

"Yes. Sherlock went on a walk. You could go meet him. I'll tell you which direction to go and look after Rosie if you want to head out?" Wanda asked. 

"I think I will." Atlas replied smiling before dressing herself in a hat, jacket and scarf. 

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

IN the distance she could see his black coat, hunched over on a bench in thought. The frosty ground crunched beneath her feet as she made her approach carefully. Tentiavely she approached the bench, Sherlock could sometimes be touchy around periods of festivity.

"Sherlock." Atlas said as she stood with her hands behind her back. It was now she could gage how cold it was by his breath forming infront of him. It was a pretty spot by the river, and she wondered if he came here everytime. Sherlock looked up briefly before resuming his position. 

Atlas took a seat next to Sherlock who regained his composure. "You don't have to talk. But it's Christmas Day and no-one should spend Christmas morning alone." 

Sherlock reached out an arm and placed it on her back. "Thank you." Sherlock said gratefully. Atlas scooted closer to her dad and leaned against him.

"It's my first chance at a christmas you know." Atlas paused. 

"Since I left." Sherlock said regretfully, hanging his head between his sturdy shoulders. "I know. And I'm sorry."

"You don't have to be sorry. You did what you had to Sherlock." Atlas said. "And I like to think I didn't turn out too bad for it." 

Sherlock laughed slightly.  
"We should be getting back." He said as he tapped her thigh and stood, brushing something off his face. It was then she contemplated the idea that he may have been crying before brushing it off. Sherlock wasn't the type to cry. 

"Are you alright? And tell me the truth. You know I can tell when people lie." Atlas said.

"I'm fine." Sherlock lied, but Atlas didn't push her luck. He opened his arms, the way someone does when offering or asking for a hug. She gave him one and smiled, the barriers were breaking. 

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

"THANK you." Atlas said as she was served a plate of food by Wanda and she took it to sit down at the table. Rosie and herself took one end of the table next to each other whilst Sherlock and Mycroft sat on one long side, Wanda and Timothy on the other. John took residence on the short side directly opposite Atlas and Rosie, Mrs Hudson sitting their also. 

Once everyone was settled Rosie produced her cracker to pull with Atlas who took it. Once it was pulled they swapped and pulled Atlas' one. Rosie put her orange hat on her head, Timothy smiling as he pulled on his red one. Atlas pulled on a purple one, John a green one, Mrs Hudson also pulled on a red one, Mycroft refused and Wanda pulled on a light blue one. Sherlock sat holding it in his hands before Rosie squeezed past Atlas and walked over to him. She took his hat and pulled it onto his head.

"There you go!" Atlas exclaimed laughing before Mycroft got the hint and reluctantly pulled on his dark blue one. Then they started their food.

"This is really nice." Atlas thanked Wanda as she continued to eat her food. To her surprise everyone went quiet, enjoying the food produced by the wonder that was Wanda. 

"So Mrs Hudson?" Wanda said, starting up a conversation. Mrs Hudson looked up to Wanda. "What do you normally do at christmas?"

"Oh. I don't know. I'd maybe see some friends." Mrs Hudson lied, unaware that three people were keen eyed watching her.

"You spend time alone normally don't you Mrs Hudson?" Atlas asked painfully bluntly. Normally she would expect a bit of backlash from John for saying something so rude but there was nothing.

"Yes. I suppose I do." Mrs Hudson said. Atlas cursed herself for launching the table into uncomfortable silence. 

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

ONCE everyone had settled down in the living room in preparation for the queen's speech, Atlas pulled Mrs Hudson to the side. 

"I'm sorry. Look. I shouldn't have said what I said." Atlas said. "I had no right to call you out like that."

"It's alright dear." Mrs Hudson replied kindly. She really couldn't care less what had happened, the girl was right - she did spend it alone.

"Alright, let's hear what she has to say this year!" Timothy exclaimed excitedly as everyone was settled. Atlas was sat on the floor next to Sherlock's legs, Rosie sat between John and Sherlock in the sofa, Timothy was sat in a rocking chair with Mrs Hudson, Wanda and Mycroft taking armchairs. 

Sherlock huffed slightly as her speech began and Wanda shot him a look as if to say 'shut up'. Atlas rested her head against his legs and Wanda smiled upon recognition of the scene.

The Queen's speech was laborious to some and exciting to others. Atlas was finding christmas rather interesting so far, she'd never really done it except for two times, one with the Stockholm family, the other with the Granger family.

_Atlas was sat with the family that was currently trying her out for adoption. It was Christmas Day and she was told that she would have to be sat in the living room with them. There in the glow of the fire each of the children were presented with their main gifts, of which there were only three of them. Atlas sat, waiting and waiting, but it never came. Eventually, she was sat in the glow of the fire alone, Christmas turning cold._

_Then there Slowly they were told to open their presents one by one. Atlas's "sister" opened her present first her eyes lighting up as she realised it was the newest iPhone. Then Atlas's "brother" opened his present to find he had a tablet. And then Atlas came to open hers. Inside was a book. Not that she wasn't greatful for a book, she was a bookworm. But it seemed unfair. Then she said that. Running her mouth always running her mouth places instead of just keeping quiet and it inside._

_Then there was one where she was told to stay in a room._

_Another where she was laughed at for what she received._

_Then there was one anomaly. There was one time where she was staying with a kind man. He was so nice and happy, but he...he died. Unexpectedly of heart failure. And then she was back. In the care home. Back in the system. Round in a circle._

_When Atlas thought about it, she supposed that a lot of what happened was probably because people hardly ever knew how to talk to her. How to actually be there for her. How to be her parent, because the only person who could ever fully understand her was Sherlock. Special people like John or Mrs Hudson could get close - she supposed that's why her dad had taken such a shine to the older man - but never completely._

__

When Atlas woke up from her thoughtful trance she found the queen's speech to be coming to an end. She looked up to see Sherlock had fallen asleep, the only one to do so. So Atlas being the only person who knew she could get away with it tickled him under the knee. In that moment she knew she couldn't be anymore annoying. He jolted awake sending everyone else in the room into coils of laughter. He himself let out a little laugh before ruffling Atlas' hair as she gave him a look.

__

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

__

EVERYONE had opened their presents and now it was only Sherlock's left. The box that contained the collar had been handed to him, but Mycroft told him just to wait. 

__

"I'll go get your present." Atlas said getting to her feet, Rosie ran after her as they exited the front door. They went out to Mycrofts car and collected the dog who had been surreptitiously fed and walked by the man himself. 

__

Then they reentered the house Rosie going first. Carefully Rosie removed Sherlock's scarf from the coat rack before reaching the room.

__

"Sherlock?" Rosie asked sweetly as she approached the man. He looked at her expectantly as she approached him. "I need to tie this around your eyes." 

__

"Okay." Sherlock said as Rosie squeezed around the back of the sofa and tied it around his eyes. Launched into darkness Sherlock waited anxiously. Rosie walked over to the front door and opened it for Atlas to step through with Redbeard. Wanda and Timothy shared a knowing look as they entered.

__

Sherlock reached out his hands as soon as he had his hands on the fur of the dog he'd pulled his blindfold off.

__

"Hello." Sherlock said stroking the dog's head. John shared a happy look with Atlas who just smiled wildly. "Hello." The dog licked his face making the childish adult laugh. Then he opened his package to reveal the collar as he tied it around the dogs neck. 

__

"Redbeard." Sherlock smiled to himself before he felt something prick his eye. To his amazement he was truly so touched it was causing tears to emerge and he cursed himself for being so childish.

__

"He's from me, Rosie and Mycroft." Atlas said as she gave Rosie a side hug. Rosie just smiled before running forward and hugging the dog. 

__

"Thank you." Sherlock said as he looked up at Atlas, Mycroft and Rosie. The dog he never had was now infront of him.

__

"He's three years old, he has a lot of life left in him yet." Atlas said smiling at her dad who nodded before stroking the dog again eagerly. It was as if all of his problems had disappeared and he was just _happy._

__

Later when everyone was speaking to one another Mycroft pulled Shelrock to the side. 

__

"That dog. Was your kid's idea." Mycroft said to Sherlock as he stood opposite him. "I don't know how she knew but she did. And she also told me something else."

__

Sherlock looked at him expectantly. 

__

"She used to get hit, Sherlock. For anything, everything. Speaking, deducing." Mycroft said to his younger brother, who looked very sad. 

__

"I hadn't deduced that." Sherlock said sadly, as if he was choking before looking over to Atlas and Rosie who were playing with the dog, John watching over them.

__

"I know." Mycroft said as he held his brother's shoulder. 

__

Sherlock started to walk away. "Thank you, Mycroft."

__

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

__

THAT evening the group anxiously awaited the Doctor Who christmas special. Several of them were fans, others not so much. Everyone sat where they had sat during the day the only difference being Atlas and Rosie.

__

Sherlock and John had swapped sides so that John was closer to the TV. Mrs Hudson, Sherlock, Atlas and even _Rosie_ through handwritten notes and purposefully leading him into an opticians - had hinted he should look at getting his eyes tested but he never did. Atlas sat between them, Rosie taking the floor.

__

Halfway through, Atlas leaned against John's arm and he absent mindedly lifted it up. Atlas slotting in. Then Rosie clambered up onto the sofa and onto Sherlock's surprisingly willing lap. He let her sit on his knee, leaning against the arm of the sofa. She tucked herself into him, John and Sherlock sharing a (gay) look.

__


	16. Frosty Walks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm a clown.

IT was 10am on Boxing Day when Sherlock stood and smoothed down his shirt.

"I'm bored!" He stood to his feet, the dog copying him. "Do you want to go for a walk?" He directed towards the dog who sat and cocked his head to the side before running to the door. 

"We're coming." Atlas said as John and Rosie followed her. They could all do with peace from Mycroft's incessant droning. He'd been talking for an hour about that one time he accidentally appeared in a movie and nobody - aside himself - was invested on the story. 

A few yards along the path and Sherlock let Redbeard off the lead. Amazed when he called and the dog came bounding back.

"Atlas. May I ask you something?" Sherlock asked his daughter as she walked next to her. "How long was the investment in this dog?"

"Not long, but I paid - or rather Mycroft paid - for some intensive training." Atlas replied. "I decided to name him Redbeard. Figured you'd want to name him that."

Sherlock nodded in acceptance and Atlas knew that that was his version of saying Thank you.

And then Atlas and Rosie ran forwards, the frost crunching harshly under feet. The dog ran with them, their hair blowing across their faces in the wind. Rosie giggled as they came to a stop by the bench next to the stream. The dog jumped down onto the bank, Atlas following in suit. Atlas lifted Rosie down onto the pebbles next to her.

Rosie found a stick and threw it into the small stream, the dog bounding in after it. He swam out, clamped it between his teeth and swam back to the shore. Then shook, sending water all over Atlas and Rosie. John and Sherlock had reached the bench and sat down.

"On my wedding day." John started. "I saw you. Sad. Everytime I looked you seemed sad, except for when you knew I was looking." It was something that had bothered him ever since and he was determined to discover why.

"Because marriage is something I can't understand." Sherlock said quickly in return. "I've tried and I've tried some more. And each time it's more confusing." Sherlock said. He wanted to tell John the truth but it was as if the small amount of EQ he had left was telling him that he wasn't allowed to.  
"I felt, that in some way, I was losing my best friend. And it was silly and stupid and it hurt because I wanted you to be happy. After all I'd done, after I had jumped off that building and faked my death, you deserved more than being stuck running cases with an annoying dick never knowing if your going to be the murder victim."

"Your not an annoying dick." John said as he looked to his friend. His normally unspeaking, normally minimal emotional friend, almost breaking down infront of him. Sherlock leaned forward and put his head in his hands. Atlas exchanged a look with John and she knew it was being taken care of.

"Your my best friend, Sherlock." John said as he put a hand to Sherlock's back. "I wouldn't let you be alone."

"I was once." Sherlock said rubbing his hands over his face. "Do you know I used to be the odd one out? In a school full of people who didn't like me. The things they used to call me and say...say to me. I never felt anything hit me as hard or hurt as much." John looked at him. "As - and I swear this was on me - when you backed me into a corner and I said "I killed his wife." And you replied."

"Yes, you did." John said as he looked at the ground. "I'm sorry Sherlock. I never meant to do what I did." 

"Don't worry about it. I was the one being a dick. And technically the one to blame." Sherlock said as he looked up to see Atlas, Rosie and Redbeard still playing in the stream.

"You are a dick and you were being a dick." John laughed. "But you were not the one to blame."

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

A successful Christmas with the family yielded ideas for New Years Eve. Currently it was the morning of the 27th. It had been decided that they would keep it quiet. Just the four of them plus Mrs Hudson and maybe see the rest of them on New Years Day. That way they could be alone and talk and enjoy each others company - Sherlock still protested that he would rather be alone.

Atlas was busy writing another song in her bedroom with her small midi board she had received for christmas whilst John was in the kitchen and Sherlock was in his room. Rosie sat with a few colouring books and a big map that she was colouring in and naming. Admittedly she'd had to ask Atlas, John and Sherlock for help with some countries that she couldn't name.

"Rosie?" Greg Lestrade said as he entered the living room. He saw her and didn't question, the household were becoming increasingly unusual.

"Where's your dad?" Greg asked as the four year old sat and turned angled her head to look at him. She cocked her head slightly, the dog who had decided to lie next to her doing the same.

"Which one?" She asked as she went back to her colouring.

"Uhh...Which one?" Lestrade asked thoroughly confused by the question the smart girl had asked.

"Dad or Papi?" Rosie asked as she absent mindedly coloured, ignoring Greg's faltering composure. In an instant he became extremely proud of this unconventional lunatic that he could confidently call his junkie friend.

"Dad?" He asked confused.

"Sherlock." Rosie hinted innocently.

"Your papi. John." Lestrade answered. Rosie pointed to the kitchen and there John was. They started to have a developed conversation about some sort of army firearms.

Meanwhile Atlas tentively knocked on Sherlock's door. He said she could go in and she found him working on yet another one of his chemistry projects. After Rosie was born and Atlas had arrived, John insisted that no more experiments could take place. Most of the time Sherlock was doing something stupid like seeing how long it would take some form of acid to dissolve an eye. Often it was a human eye.

"I finished the violin section for my music." Atlas said as she handed Sherlock the piece of music. He studied it before nodding and placing it next to him. "We're playing it on New Years Day when everyone is around."

Sherlock shot her a look and Atlas just shrugged, before Sherlock sighed and looked at the sheet. He nodded once before Atlas left, smirking.


	17. Concoctions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Character experiences an absence seizure

IT was the 27th of December and Atlas was panicking. She'd managed for so long to make her own concoction of pills to keep her condition at bay. But now? Now she was scared. She'd run out of the two boxes of over the counter medication and she panicked. This wasn't good. She knew she wouldn't be able to get anymore. Lestrade was currently speaking to John and she'd just been to see Sherlock who was in Rosie's room helping her tidy up. All this panicking was making her throat dry so she hustled to the kitchen and gathered a glass of water.

"Greg." Atlas nodded as she grabbed a glass from the cupboard and downed a glass of water. She filled up another round and began to make her way to her room. Slowly. 

Then she stopped. John and Lestrade shared a concerned look as she looked dead straight ahead, seemingly not being present. Then, as if she'd lost all control in her arm, she dropped the glass. It shattering into a million pieces on the hard floor. John took her by the arms and sat her down on a stool.

"Greg. Could you maybe pick up the glass?" John asked as he kneeled infront of Atlas as she rested her elbow on the table her head in her hand. She covered eyes to hide her tears. 

Rosie quietly went to get Sherlock who followed her when she took his hand. He didn't question her on where he was being led, he just did. Lestrade had managed to put the glass away and had made his departure from the flat by the time he'd gotten through.

"Now, by using my doctor knowledge I can guess what just happened. But it would be better to hear from you." John said as pulled up a chair opposite her. At this point Sherlock appeared in the kitchen, his brow furrowing when he saw Atlas at the table.

"I...I thought I had enough time." Atlas said. "I thought I had enough to last me right through."

John wished her to go on and she did so, letting a breath out. 

"I've been making...concoctions." Atlas admitted.

"Two pills that provide the same effect as the other kind." Sherlock said as he leaned against the counter in the kitchen. He had his arms folded across his chest as he looked over to Atlas who nodded as she removed her hand. She held out her hands as they shook before she scrunched them into a fist.

"The only problem is, is they make my hands shake. The proper medicine doesn't do this." Atlas said as she let more tears falls from her eyes. "I thought I had enough left to last me just a little longer. If you've observed right you'll have noticed I haven't been playing my...my instruments." Atlas answered.

"Since around three weeks after you arrived. You had enough of your proper medication to last you." Sherlock noted as Atlas nodded.

"I would have said something and I'm really sorry that I didn't." Atlas said. "I just couldn't bring myself to."

"Seizures." Sherlock said quietly as John took the young girl's hands into his own. "Petit and Grand Mal, if I remember correctly. You've only ever had two grands before we got the medication spot on. They weren't bad when you were younger, usually just the absence seizures." His head directed towards her.

"I know." Atlas nodded, tears falling again as she looked at John. "They aren't bad now, I didnt want to worry you."

"We know." John said as Atlas gave a sob that she tried to conceal. "What're they caused by?" 

Atlas looked over to her father who nodded, she looked back to John. "Root cause is anxiety. Creates a weird thingy ma bob with my heart, blah blah blah. At least that's what they think, it's still being researched. I've heard it so much and plus your a doctor so I don't figure I need to repeat it all." 

"Alright." John said, rubbing a thumb over her knee comfortingly.

She tucked her hands under her armpits in a nervous habit. She gave a sniffle but then Redbeard came trotting up to her and nuzzled at her.

"Hey Red." Atlas said as she stroked the dog quietly. "I think I like this house." 

"I do too." Atlas said pretending to be dog as she dropped her voice.

"That's good because you make this place better."

"I do?"

"Redbeard!" Rosie screeched as she bounded forward and hugged the dog. And Sherlock shared another knowing look with John as the young girl placed a flower crown round his neck. 

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

ATLAS paced her bedroom floor in the afternoon before lying on it. What had her life become? She hated herself for not telling John and Sherlock sooner, she hated herself for believing that her mum had died. _She just hated herself._

People often hated her and looked at her. They would scowl and frown at her. Call her things. She would just be there sat alone reading her book in her quirky clothing. She was ignored. Then she sat up and looked around.

_This is my life._

She looked over to where she was keeping all the books she had borrowed from Sherlock. They were all based on different things such as drugs and how they affect a person's mental capacity. Then she had another one on Iraq and Afghanistan, one on the "Hidden War", another based on the Freemasons. The list was endless and Atlas was thankful that Sherlock was akin to her reading styles. Then again there were also some books she'd borrowed off of John such as the Lord Of The Rings and Hobbit series. There were some more good fictional reads borrowed from him aswell.

Atlas got to her feet and made her way back to Sherlock's room.

"Sherlock?" Atlas knocked. "Sherlock?" Atlas entered to see him fully engrossed in his experiment. He didn't even flinch when she shut the door and so carefully she approached him. She didn't have to ask what he was doing to know that he would probably end up on the list of most likely to be a murderer list if someone found him - then again, he probably already was.

"Frog stomach." Atlas said. "Cool." She said enthusiastically. She looked at a few more things when Sherlock jumped five feet in the air.

"Holy sh-. You shouldn't scare people." Sherlock said as he looked Atlas annoyed. 

"Sherlock. I've been here for a three minutes and twenty two seconds." Atlas said as she crossed her arms. "I did say your name at least five times during the course of this time."

Sherlock went back to what he was doing.

"What're you doing anyway?"

"Nothing." He answered suspiciously as he continued on a different project. 

"Okay. Just promise me your not going to become a robot hauled out in here." Atlas said looking at him skeptically, that's the last thing she wanted him to become. Atlas had come to the conclusion that she was somewhat sad and excited. It was strange, she'd left somewhere where she didn't feel at home to somewhere she did - yet, she felt as if she was missing something. 

Sherlock shot her a look, to which he narrowed his eyes in reply. His expression softening when he saw how concerned his daughter was.

"Alright. I'll...I'll try." Sherlock replied as he looked at her. Her eyebrows raised and she nodded knowing that it was the best she was going to get. 

"That's good enough for me." Atlas said as she smiled at him before leaving the room. He nodded in her direction as she left, the smile lingering on her lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have a heart condition. I've never witnessed or had a seizure, but I do know what anxiety feels like. I have done some research on absence and physical seizures but please if anything is incorrect please notify me!


	18. Little Steps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm no doctor. I'm also not very good at writing.
> 
> But still...if you have stuck around for 18 chapters then maybe you like it.

AT the beginning of the day John did not expect to be sat by the hospital bed of his best friend. It was now as he sat with his own daughter on his lap and his best friend's daughter leaning against his side, that he reflected upon what had happened.

_Adrenaline pumped through their veins as they stood opposite a rather burly man. They both shared a look and knew he was the murderer and rapist of those three girls on Duke Street. Having daughters themselves they felt infuriated at the mans deed as they stood._

_Sherlock was edging slowly closer towards the man and from John's point of view the man bore no weapons on him. Suddenly, the man had a grip on Sherlock as he shot him in the gut. The shot rang out across the dormant building as Sherlock was slammed against the wall, his head making contact with the cool brick._

_Then asserting his leave the man fled the building as Sherlock slid down the wall, beaten and bruised. John tried desperately to keep him conscious, but it was too late. He was out of it._

It was the 29th of December - New Year's Eve edging closer and closer by the second. Mycroft and his parents had been informed along with Mrs Hudson. Lestrade had yet to be contacted.

"John?" Sherlock said as he stirred from his slumber, Atlas sitting up promptly to look at them. He looked directly at his best friend as he anticipated his response.

"Yeah Sherlock." John said as he reached out a hand to place his on top.

"Who's this?" Sherlock asked his brows furrowing and his eyes narrowing as he studied the unknown person.

"Who's who?" John said as Sherlock looked at him as if it was blatantly obvious. 

"This." Sherlock gestured to his daughter, who stared at him wide eyed.

"You don't remember?" John asked as Sherlock supposed his answer was no. He couldn't figure out who this unknown person was as she sat there, looking at him. She looked as if she was about to break down but she hid it well. Concealed behind a false complexion. 

"No." Sherlock said bluntly. "Why would I remember her?"

"Sherlock." John said carefully as Rosie wriggled in his knee, desperately trying to get closer to Sherlock. To her he was much a father as her own, yet she knew he wasn't by blood. Then again since when did blood relation begin to matter in the modern world.

"It's alright Rosie. I'm fine." Sherlock said to Rosie as she calmed down slightly. Her protestations decreasing.

"This is your daughter, Sherlock." John replied as he removed his hand from atop of Sherlock's and gestured to Atlas. Upon seeing she was far from okay he took her hand in his and held it.

"I don't have a daughter." Sherlock said as he looked at her in confusion. 

"Sherlock." John said quietly.

"I don't have a daughter!" Sherlock shouted.

Atlas looked at him with tears brimming in her eyes. She frowned before looking up at him, knowing that she couldn't blame him. She was sure he had mild amnesia but with an indeterminate length of time lost. By her assumption, he'd lost any recollection since late October when she arrived. On top of this, there was still uncertainty of how much memory he would get back. He wouldn't remember his talks with John, Redbeard, Atlas' condition, the song, maybe even anything and it was if her heart had been severed. Like a chainsaw had decided to mess everything over again. Like when Steven Moffat obliterated any idea of Galifrey having been saved, obliterated it again with any doctor he worked with, only for Chris Chibnall to obliterate that. 

And that was a disaster in itself. Compare that to an amnesiac sociopath who is a detective saving countless lives at the same time as saving the governments assess - sometimes even the world's. Atlas was certain that the obliteration of a planet was no comparison to what she was going to have to meddle through.

"You do. You know you remember me." Atlas explained quietly, tears spilled from her eyes. "I'm Atlas."

"I don't...You can't be." Sherlock said quietly.

"I am." Atlas protested quietly. "I promise I am."

"I have a headache." Sherlock said quietly, looking at John and Rosie and then over to this girl who was supposedly Atlas. The Atlas.

"Atlas could you leave?" Sherlock asked quietly looking at the girl who was teary eyed. He didnt want to look at her. "Please."

"I really want to stay." Atlas stuttered.

"Leave! Just leave!" He shouted, Atlas' eyes filling with tears. "Just leave me the hell alone."

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

"HEY Atlas. I'm here to see Sherlock." Mycroft said in his oddly excited tone. She couldn't tell whether he was excited that Sherlock was in hospital - wouldn't be the first time. Or excited for some other possibly more ungodly reason. "Why are you sat out here?"

"He's lost his memory Mycroft." Atlas said as she rubbed a hand over her face. Mycroft looked at her more curiously. "He doesn't remember me arriving in October."

"So in other words. He doesn't remember you." Mycroft said bluntly to which Atlas responded with a steely not-helping-me-get-over-the-fact-my-father-has-forgotten-me look. To which Mycroft shied away and entered the room.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

A day later and Sherlock was still in hospital with no memory. Atlas had spent time in the hospital, but not inside the room. She knew Sherlock wanted to understand but he just couldn't. He seemed to be frustrated by that.

Atlas was now sat by his bedside while he slept. Alone. John and Rosie had gone to find food, insisting she have time with him.

"I really hope..." Atlas began as she filled the silence. She choked on her words, taking a deep breath before she could continue. "I really hope that you are going to wake up one day soon after a peaceful, restful night and say you remember me. I don't think that's going to happen though. I'm just going to have to work it out. Maybe I'll go stay with Mycroft for a while if your not...well not better when you get released home."

Sherlock didn't stir and she willed him to wake up and remember. Even if he could remember just enough to know who she was to him. It was as if he couldn't even join the dots to her in her younger years. As if any memory of her had been lost.

"I don't want to end up going around in a circle again." Atlas began, tears pricking her usually unsentimental eyes. "I had such plans for New Years. But the worst part is. If you can't remember me, I don't know if I can be there. I've written this song and it must have a violin playing alongside the piano and my voice. God knows I can't do all of them at once." Atlas laughed as she smiled to herself. "Just try to remember me and Redbeard. He's missing you. I took him for a walk this morning before...well before I heard." Atlas noticed her leave and stood to go. "Just, get better. Alright?"

Then just as she was about to leave the room she heard Sherlock groan.

"Atlas." Sherlock said quietly. His voice sounded hoarse as if he was battling a rising frog in his throat. She assumed that John had mentioned her name more than once to try and jog his unaccounted for memories. Atlas looked back at him. "I really do wish I could remember you."

"I know you do."

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

SHERLOCK was lying in bed when he experienced a flashback. 

_"You'll be alright Atlas." Sherlock said as she was sat next to her bed, the young girls hand caught within in his own._

_John was stood behind him and put a hand on his shoulder, firmly squeezing it in reassurance. Sherlock looked down at his hands and saw that there were droplets of water pooling in arrangement._

_Sherlock put a hand on top of John's in gratitude._

And then he came back. His eyes darting around him to find that he was alone. He was confused, very confused.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

IT was precisely 6pm when Lestrade promptly entered the living room. It had remained dormant for some time now and he frowned as he studied the mess. Behind him Atlas entered the dog bounding over to him.

"Oh. Hello Atlas." Lestrade said rather bluntly as he looked around the room.

"Uh...Sorry. Sherlock and John aren't here." Atlas said putting a hand to her face before removing it. 

"I heard you were trying to get a hold of me. What's Sherlock done now?" Lestrade asked urgently as Atlas looked at him as if to say calm down.

"He's...uhh...well." Atlas began before looking at Lestrade. There was no easy way to say what she needed to. "He's lost about three months of his memory." 

Lestrade looked at her somewhat blank. Confused as to why she would be here and not there. Then it hit him, harder than expected.

"He's...He's forgotten you, and Redbeard. He's forgotten every step of progress either of us have made with him." Lestrade said as he sat deflated on the sofa.

"Yeah. That's the biggest problem."

"When you came, you helped him so much." Lestrade said Atlas nodded before putting down the dog lead on the mantelpiece. "God, I hope he gets his memory back."

Atlas minded her own business for a little while before studying him some more. 

"That's not the only reason to came." Atlas said, before it made sense. "You have another case don't you?"

Lestrade sighed. "We need Sherlock's help."

"Well you won't be able to get him."

"What are you proposing?" 

"Me...You let me do it. Take the case and solve it."

Lestrade looked at her.  
"Alright."

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

BEFORE them the police tape was stripped across and Atlas ducked underneath. Lestrade and Atlas shared a look before he led the way to the body. It was expected that heads would be turned as a _child_ approached the crime scene. Many among the officers watched in disbelief as the normally strict Lestrade willingly let the girl in.

"Lestrade. You can't bring children onto a crime scene." A female officer said as she approached the pair who had appeared. Earlier Lestrade said he was going to retrieve Sherlock, not some kid.

"Nice to meet you too." Atlas said somewhat bitterly as Lestrade gave her a look. Then he turned his eyes to meet the female officer.

"We need her on the scene." Lestrade said determinedly as the female shook her head in disapproval.

"Sherlock is currently...well...your not going to be able to get him. So I am the next best thing." Atlas said trying to sound braver than she was admittedly feeling. 

"The next best thing?" The female officer remarked. "Sherlock is something else. How come I know you are?"

"Because." Atlas said before realising just because wasn't going to work. "I can tell you that currently you are living in a two story flat, have three cats, a daughter who doesn't have a father that lives with you but believes the man you are married to is. You are filing for a second divorce in your thirty two, four months and six days of life, you have already been shopping today, been to an ice hockey game and...well...fucked the intern at the station." Atlas said growing slightly out of breath by the end. She stopped studied the woman's expression before being allowed closer to the body. The woman was sincere in her apologies and Lestrade shot her a look. "Holmes. Atlas Holmes."

"Donovan." The female officer said, pausing as she thought about adding the first.

"Sally." Atlas finished for her. The woman looked at her confused before giving a slight nod.

"It's one thing to mess with me. Another thing to mess with a Holmes." Lestrade muttered, giving a small smirk to Donovan. Sherlock and John wouldn't admit it, but they were growing fond of her everytime they saw her. She'd stopped saying freak and started being nice and actually helpful. 

Lestrade had grown to very much like Atlas for her less abrasive analysis than Sherlock. Despite this factor, when she was pissed she was more likely to be harsh and rude.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

ATLAS analysed the body, paced a little, pictured the scene in her head, solved who the murderer was, told the police where to find them, and was left at the scene of the crime with Lestrade.

"Your not going?" Atlas asked Lestrade as he shook his head at her. 

"No. I think I'd rather see how Sherlock's doing." Lestrade said kindly. "Do you want a lift there?"

"No. I think I'll take a walk home. It's not far." Atlas lied knowing that there was more to the case than met the eye. She also knew that there was more than one mind who had plotted the murder, they just had to find them. She'd sent the police to go looking for the adult, but she now had to go looking for the kid. Or, she should say all the kids. The shooter was a human trafficker and she assumed that the person had shot the victim due to them knowing the truth about their plans.

Atlas headed in the direction of the building before climbing some scaffolding into the car park in construction. Within the building on the third floor from the ground and the second one from the top, she found what she was looking for. One truck. A single truck was all she was looking for and she felt stupid. Stupid for coming alone.

She dialled 999 and recieved an answer. She told them what she suspected and within moments Lestrade pulled up with his team. It was as if she was trying to prove something. She just couldn't figure out if she was trying to prove it to herself or to someone else.

"How come you didn't tell us about this?" Lestrade asked after seventeen people were counted out from the truck.

"I don't know. Maybe I wanted to prove myself or something that and I wasn't that sure. Oh and a mass of police cars may have caused more problems if the man had any allies. But at least we found them." Atlas said to Lestrade who nodded before she departed, knowing she would be spending the night alone.


	19. No Time Left

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're still here?
> 
> Good! 
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> Featuring Sherlock getting mad like a dad. Oooh that rhymed.

"BYE John." Atlas putting down her phone as she made herself a cup of tea. She hadn't been to see Sherlock in a few hours, it was as if it was too much of a painful undertaking. 

The dog had been sad seeing as he hadn't seen him and Atlas was even more depressed. Sherlock was due home at the end of the day and she had done very little. To her surprise Mrs Hudson had returned home momentarily, spoken to Atlas before departing the building. 

"What're we going to do Redbeard?" Atlas asked as she sat in the window with a cup of tea and a book. The dog waged his tail and made his way over to lie next to him.

"What if he doesn't get better Red?" Atlas asked as she stroked his head and watched the world go by from the window. The dog nudged her hand before sighing and then going back to her book.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

SHERLOCK was due home at approximately 6pm but he didn't arrive. And then...

The phone rang.

"Hello?" Atlas asked as the other side of the line was quiet.

"Atlas." John said on the other side of the line. "We're running late, but Sherlock's gotten better." His voice broke and he sounded like he was crying. "Atlas. He remembers the last three months. "

"Oh." Atlas replied. "There's no guarantee. I...I know that." 

"But he does remember the last three months." John replied but Atlas still sat cold. It was as if she was so sure he was never going to regain his memory.

"Alright. See you in a while."

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

WHEN Sherlock arrived home, the first thing he was greeted by was his dog. It bounded towards him wagging his tail enthusiastically. Atlas had remained sat looking out the window and also reading her book. She'd made little attempt to approach him. She was relieved, yes, but she was scared. Scared incase it happened again. Scared incase Sherlock couldn't remember anything. 

"Give her time." John said when he noticed his best friend looking at his daughter. 

"Time? Why does she need time?" Sherlock asked. Ah yes. That was another thing. Sherlock may have regained his memory from the past three months. But he couldn't remember anything from his time in hospital. John answered with a pointed look.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

JOHN stood in the doorway to Atlas's room and looked over to where she was sitting crossed legged on her bed. When he entered and carefully shut the door with a slow and gentle click, she looked up.

"Hey." Atlas smiled before looking down at a little book she was messily scribbling another set of ideas for a song into.

"Can I sit?" John asked, taking the moment carefully. When she nodded, he sat, near enough to her to touch but not too close that it could spook her. "Do you want to talk about it?" 

Atlas shook her head to that. No, she didn't want to talk. Not really. 

"Do you want me to just sit with you?" John asked Atlas, who gave a little smile and with her left hand reached out and grabbed his hand. She continued for scribble and John did his very best to not intrude. He rubbed her hand with her thumb before she did the Sherlockian nose crumple, then decided that it was evidently enough lyric writing for one day and put the book to one side. 

Carefully, she unravelled her legs and moved to sit next to him, wrapping her arms around his torso.

"What will we do if he looses his memory again?" Atlas asked as John closed his arms around her. He rubbed her back.

"He won't loose his memory again." John said, resting his cheek on her head. 

"But if he does? Because it can happen." Atlas murmured, holding onto him tighter. 

"I don't know. But we'll figure it out okay?" John said. "I'm here for you, I'll always be here for you...Okay?"

"Yeah." Atlas smiled. _I love you._

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

THAT evening Atlas was stood by the sink washing the dishes whilst Sherlock stood in the kitchen.

"I figured out a case." Atlas said trying to break the unknown tension between them. "I went with Lestrade to a murder victim. He knew about the convicted's human trafficking secret and sought to expose him. He got shot. Then I went solo to the container, found them and called up the station." 

"Hold up. You went solo?" Sherlock asked his voice edging in anger. "You went alone? _To a suspected trafficking site?"_

"Yes." Atlas replied.

"You could've been taken."

"But I wasn't. I wasn't was I?" Atlas said turning around to look at him. "I needed something to take my mind off everything that was going on in that moment. Sherlock. I was no longer your kid. And I can't blame you but I wasn't your kid. You didn't know who I was. You didn't understand."

"It was irresponsible to go there alone." Sherlock remarked, John lingering outside the kitchen not wanting to intrude.

"But I saved their lives Sherlock. They would have been dead! I was dead to you! And all you could think about was John and Rosie." Atlas shouted before she went quiet. The quiet things often hurt more. "And I dont blame you. But I was here. In my bubble with Redbeard."

Atlas was about to leave the kitchen. "The worst part was Sherlock. You looked happy. And not just happy, _happier."_ ,

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

AROUND twenty minutes later Atlas was lying on her side in the fetal position on her bed. Sherlock knocked lightly before entering, sitting on the bed before thinking of what to say.

"I really...really thought you weren't _ever_ going to remember." Atlas explained as she felt tears prick her eyes. "Or at least, you would only remember a little bit."

"Even if I hadn't I would've tried." Sherlock said trying to help the situation along. Atlas nodded knowingly before looking at him.

"I was scared. And I shouldn't have been. That I was going to end up back in the system."

"I'm proud of you, you know." Sherlock said.

"Yeah?" Atlas asked, looking up at him expectantly.

"Yeah, course I am. You've done a hell of a lot for me." Sherlock said, smiling at her. There was a pause of quiet company and comfortable silence.

"You know, the rucksack was all I had and the violin and piano had been in a storage unit ever since a foster home with a nice man who gave me his in his will." Atlas explained to her dad as best she could.

"You know. I'm sorry for -"

"You don't need to be sorry." Atlas said before she sat up and leaned into Sherlock's side. "I'm just glad your back."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, yes I'm painfully aware this is short.


	20. Hobbits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy. As always, comment if you notice any irregularities.

NEW Year's Eve had been nice and peaceful, John and Sherlock had had an important chat and Mrs Hudson had joined them to count the New Year in.

Now it was New Year's Day and much to Sherlock's grumbling they had arranged to see his parents, Mycroft, Molly and her new partner and Lestrade. Atlas had yet to meet Molly and something inside of her bubbled nervously. It was probably the fact she was once a lover of Sherlock's and Atlas was nervous that her coming would mess up all of what John had said to him on New Year's Eve. In an indirect, roundabout way, John had essentially said 'I love you' and Sherlock had said it back. Yet, Atlas couldn't tell if they realised that that was the conversation they had essentially had. But she believed they had come to a mutual understanding.

Preparations were in place as John and Mrs Hudson attempted to cook some food to put out as a help-yourself. Sherlock had already made something, and to Atlas' surprise he was a rather good cook. 

"When is everyone coming?" Rosie asked, her hair flowing down her back as she went over to Sherlock. He was doing something on the computer - probably looking at a dead body - and quickly he changed the website over to Google.

Recently Rosie had started speaking to a wider number of people, but they all just supposed it was because they were who she felt the most comfortable with. So far she'd only spoken to Lestrade twice and Sherlock, John, Mrs Hudson and Atlas. She still wouldn't speak to a stranger or Mycroft or Sherlock's parents.

"Around 6pm." Sherlock replied as he took Rosie up onto his lap. 

"What're you doing?" She asked as she looked at the google page. Sherlock gesturing to the blank Google page. Then she typed 'elgoog' into the search engine, Sherlock watching her interestedly. 

"I was just looking at some cases. What are you up to?" Sherlock asked as he watched her play on this weird Easter egg site.

"Playing a game dad." Rosie said as she giggled and continued what she was doing. For a moment Sherlock went cold unsure on whether to correct her or not.

"Eh Rosie." Sherlock said as she looked at him. "I'm...I'm not your dad." 

Rosie looked at him as if she was going to cry. Tears bubbled in her eyes as she looked at him. She leaned into him as she a few tears fell from her eyes. She took a deep breath before replying.

"Well you are to me." Rosie said as she curled in slightly. She sniffled slightly as Sherlock put his arms around her. "You should be dad. Or dada. Or Sherlywerly."

"I like dad most if you don't mind." Sherlock replied as he kissed her head. She nodded.

By the door Atlas and John stood listening in slightly. To be honest John was happy with the outcome. It was clear that Sherlock was happy with having that status.

"John." Atlas said from their secluded part of the kitchen. She placed a hand on his shoulder. "You need to tell Sherlock."

"Tell him what?" John asked trying to act innocent.

"That your absolutely smitten." Atlas laughed as she placed another plate on the table and looked over to Sherlock and smiled. She wished that Rosie's childhood remained the happy one it is. With two dads who couldn't be any better. And yes, Sherlock was a good father. He was kind and he cared even if he didn't to outside world.

"Is it obvious?" John admitted as Atlas looked at him as if he was an idiot. 

"Sometimes you are stupid John." Atlas said.

"Do you think he knows?" John whispered.

"If he does. He won't admit it to be real."

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

IT wasn't far off 6pm and the door bell went. Mrs Hudson could be heard ushering some people up the stairs. Then through the door came Timothy, Wanda and Mycroft and everyone in the house were surprised to think they may have come together. Mycroft entered first in his stuck up grandeur as he swung his cane to the side of the room. 

"Uncle Mycroft." Atlas nodded as she poked her head out from the kitchen. John looking out at the same time before they disappeared into the kitchen again to continue what they were doing.

Timothy entered followed closely by Wanda who almost immediately bustled over to Sherlock who was still sat with Rosie by the computer. Although now they had moved onto to reading "The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe". This was against what John had said but when he realised Sherlock helped Rosie understand the scary parts instead of letting her think about them, he agreed to just let it happen. Sherlock explained when any monsters popped up, why the witch was evil and described Turkish Delight as a "disgusting gloop that you would never see in Willy Wonka's chocolate factory" - another book of which Rosie enjoyed to hear read several times a month.

Wanda leant down and hugged Sherlock as he attempted to shy away. Rosie recieved a kiss on her head aswell as a 'hello dear.'

Rosie produced a smile to Wanda as she giggled slightly. Then she mustered as much courage as she could possibly summon and sat looking at Wanda.

"Hello." She quietly squeaked before picking up the book and shoving it back into Sherlock's waiting hands. He then continued the story in time for the rest of the family to witness. 

And now it was made pretty certain that Rosie appeared to be happy enough to speak infront of Sherlock's family. Yet she remained quiet and continued to listen to the book being read to her.

The next to arrive was Molly and her partner. They'd been together for nearly two years after Sherlock admitted things between them would never work as they were complete opposites. Although Atlas was convinced it may have also had something to do with John.

Rosie was still sitting listening to her story, Mycroft and Wanda had made their way to the kitchen and Timothy was looking over books on the shelf. Molly's eyes first went to Sherlock who was smiling, probably in response to something Rosie had gestured.

"Hello Molly" John said as he exited the Kitchen. He beamed at her as he walked over and gave her a hug.

"Nice to meet you." Atlas said as she approached Molly and shook her hand. There seemed to be an exchanged smile between the two and a lingering handshake.

"No. That's wrong. You two _have_ met." Sherlock said as he looked between the two. It was clear he'd been watching a while as he turned his head to look at them.

"We haven't." Atlas said keeping her face unreadable as she had mastered. She'd been working on it a while, more since she moved in with Sherlock due to his ability to also read people. Unfortunately Molly's face gave it away and Atlas knew that.

"My, Sherlock, your memory really is poor sometimes." Atlas said mockingly as John and Sherlock looked at her rather bemused. The rest of the room watched on in curiosity waiting for Sherlock's lightbulb moment of recognition. No-one had a clue of what it would be but Sherlock would remember. The memory must currently be stored in the recycling bin.

"It's good to work connections and make friends." Atlas explained. "It's especially helpful to have someone who has an ability if she so desired to, to access chemicals. I may have done a little, shimmy shammy and wham...had a sort of human tranquilizer?"

John looked at her skeptically.

"I needed to erase your memory of me before it was too late. A tranquilizer would make you feel as though you had been sleeping and had dreamt my appearance. As you and John often don't talk about matters such as that I knew you wouldn't exactly relate to each other about having a similar "dream."" Atlas explained in a flurry of mad-man excitement. 

"That's quite clever." Wanda said after some time of silence. Sherlock sat silent in his chair searching. Searching his hard drive, his mind palace. Anywhere for this meeting and then he found it.

_John had looked at Sherlock as if he was mad. Lestrade had entered the small flat and explained that he had a case for them. Sherlock was eager to do it but John had to kill the moment by saying "We can't go out looking at a dead body with an active shooter aiming for our backs."_

__

_Nonetheless Sherlock and John had made the decision to look at the body. They did so, Sherlock pulling the tape up for himself and John to pass under. As they began to approach the body they looked at it apprehensively. Not because it was a body but because over it a girl hovered. Her mind was clearly in thought._

__

_Slowly they approached her and then they waited, but then she looked up. Her eyes were bright blue, her hair dark and short. Realisation overcame her face in a flurry of panic as she stood astutely. Then she walked forward, between the two and stabbed a tranquilizer into each of them. She didn't need to worry about Lestrade, he hadn't seen her._

"Lightbulb moment." Atlas said before picking up her book and plonking herself in the window seat on some cushions. "I was three days early getting into London." She was finished with cooking for the time being. That and she didn't want to witness the awkward conversations between Sherlock and Molly and Molly's likely peculiar new partner, Andrew.

Sherlock sat, looking a mix of confused and amazed and proud and angry. It was as if his face was flickering through all the emotions in determination to find the right one.

Everyone went back to what they were doing, Sherlock putting his thoughts to one side and continuing his story with Rosie. 

"What're you reading?" Timothy asked easing himself down opposite Atlas in the window. She looked at him momentarily before speaking.

"The Hobbit...Again." Atlas said looking up at Timothy. She'd borrowed it from John and she liked it most when she could imagine how the songs would sound in her head. 

"What's your favourite bit?" Timothy asked as he looked at Atlas sat opposite him, she looked at him over the top of her book before folding it over her thumb. 

"Strange as it sounds. I like the initial meeting when all the Dwarves turn up and eat the food." Atlas laughed and Timothy joined in.

"That's a good bit. I like Smaug and Bilbo's meeting, but I especially like Dain's arrival down the hillside. I know I definately wouldn't want to be on the side of the elves in that. Imagine how scary it would be." Timothy imagined, his expression suggesting he was viewing it right before his eyes. 

"Definately." Atlas agreed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me and my sister lived on 'The Hobbit' and 'The Lord Of The Rings' as children. We were not princesses, fairies or big happy monsters. We were orcs, hobbits, elves, dragons, time-lords, magicians, superheroes and adventurers. We did not see the clock strike twelve, instead we saw the misty mountains. We did not see ball gowns in every cupboard, instead we saw waistcoats, pocket watches and short trousers. We did not see golden carriages, instead we saw wolves, ponies and trolls.
> 
> But most of all, we did not see glass corridors and riches, instead we saw friendships, adventures and the importance of making a map.


	21. From Nothing To Everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So this is cringey.

AFTER Lestrade had appeared everyone sat in the living area. John sat on a chair by the desk, Rosie on his lap. Sherlock sat in his chair, Atlas leaving against his leg and the front of the arm. Mrs Hudson sat in what was normally John's chair, Lestrade, Mycroft, Timothy, Andrew and Molly hanging around over her shoulder. Wanda was sat in the chair that Atlas would usually lay claim to that had been positioned next to John's - similar in style.

Slap bang in the middle of everyone's conversations, Sherlock stood clapping Atlas on the shoulder. 

"Let's show them that song then." Sherlock smiled at Atlas as she stood and joined him. Glad that he could remember. Glad that he knew. Tentatively Atlas picked up her violin and gave it to Sherlock to play before he could pick up his own. It was a gesture that the others found touching. Sherlock smiled on response.

Without sheet music Atlas began the accompaniment on the piano, Sherlock paused in momentum. 

_I don't know  
Which way the wind will blow  
It's uncertain I know  
But let's just go with the flow _

Sherlock added the violin in at this point, the melody evolving. 

_It's cold  
Out there I'm alone  
I'm young but I'm old  
That's what I'm told _

Atlas shared a small smile with Sherlock which he returned despite ascending into a complicated section.

_Does it matter when the rain falls?  
And someone else calls?  
Do you know your lines? Do you know your prose?  
Are you searching for what lies under your nose? _

Over at the side, the compelling song was drawing a few tears as the duo played on.

_From nothing to everything.  
That's what I know.  
Descending into madness at every crossroad.  
I'm not worth every bone, but I know I'm not alone. _

_I know I'm not alone._

_I know I'm not alone._

By the time they reached the end of the song, no-one could safely say they didn't have an urge to hug the young girl. Sherlock placed the violin into it's case and was greeted with a tight hug from Atlas.

"I'm glad you remembered." Atlas laughed before pulling out of the hug and going to give one to John who was definately the most emotional by far. She gave him a tight hug, him clapping her back in response. As if saying, 'I know.'

Then Atlas and Sherlock resumed where they had previously been seated. Wanda smiled at the girl who was seemingly making her son happier. Redbeard lay in the corner of the room next to Timothy's feet. He'd migrated to the bookshelf during the song.

"Well, I best be off." Lestrade smiled as he collected his belongings. He had a family he ought to get back to and a wife who requested his help putting his toddler twins to bed.

"Bye." Everyone chorused. Before Molly and her partner Andrew took their leave aswell. And then it was just the small group of them who'd been together over Christmas left. Sherlock stood giving Timothy the option to sit down, but he shook his head.

"I need to retrieve something from the car." Timothy said in his ever mysterious way as he exited the building, not collecting his jacket. 

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

WHEN Timothy returned he had one book in his hand, smiling he approached the bookshelf beckoning for Atlas to join him. Everyone resumed usual conversations.

"Are you alright?" Atlas smiled as she glanced briefly at the leather back gripped between his fingers.

"Yes. Of course I am." Timothy laughed before his face regained its usual position. "Once upon a time, I wrote a book."

"A book. That's so cool." Atlas said in reply, ecstatic to have a writer in the family. Then her bright eyes faded as she noticed his face.

"It never got published, I mean I only tried once." Timothy said, laughing slightly. "But I thought you may like to read it."

"I'd love to." Atlas asked. "What's it about?" A pause of a few seconds. "Wait no, don't tell me. I think I want to find out." 

Timothy nodded before tapping his nose, the girl retrieving her bookmark from the desk and placing it just inside. Then she trekked to her bedroom to retrieve a gesture, one few could expect. 

"This is a password and username for Audible by Amazon. I have no use for it. But I know you will." Atlas said smiling. Due to her keen eye and observation skills she figured that small text was largely a no-go with the stubborn man. 

"Thank you." He smiled before Atlas added.

"Oh and it already has a few classics on it, so see what you find." Atlas smiled as she retreated back to her room and came back through. 

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

ONE week after the jolly affairs of Christmas and New Year, the decorations came down. And eight days after New Year's, a daunting letter was posted through the door of 221B Baker Street.

It was typed, and so was the address. This meant that Atlas couldn't decipher the tone of the letter or who may have written it.

However, it was addressed to John, and he sat reading it at the desk one evening. Atlas was around half way through her second reading of Timothy's book, this time taking pencil notes on the paper to best get a view on what he could improve on. She was determined to get him to try and publish it again. Mrs Hudson was downstairs and Sherlock was sat with Rosie in his lap as he plaited her hair in to two. He'd watched countless video's to get it just right.

The letter read as follows:

_John,_

_I know this letter will be out of the blue, but it's necessary. Me and your father are coming to visit. I know it's short warning and I have made sure to book a hotel nearby._

_I'm extremely sorry to hear about Mary. I hope you understand that you have our deepest sympathy._

"Bit late for that mum." John sighed as he decided he ought to continue reading through the letter.

_Your father is eager to see how you've been getting on without Mary._

John glanced over at Sherlock who was sat with his daughter, then over to Atlas. He's doing fine and there I'd this sort of unspoken love between them. He didn't know if he could ever say so however.

_We understand it was hard on you._

_Anyway, you'll get a full update on the 9th when we arrive._

_Love Mum x_

John sighed, they were coming tommorow.

"Your parents are coming tommorow." Atlas announced after she was sure John had finished. John looked at her as if to say 'How?'

"You just said mum aloud and few people still type letters. Our post was later than usual, you sighed midway through your letter, cursed aloud, appeared to be mildly distressed and daunted." Atlas explained. "Or you could just take the explanation that she rang the house yesterday while everyone was out. I only listened for a while and I figured it was her due to the mobile number and the request for John Hamish Watson, and not everyone knows your middle name. It's not like you tell them." 

Across from her Sherlock smirked, as John sighed and sat in the seat Atlas normally did. 

"It'll be alright John." Atlas said as she picked up her book and resumed it. 

"I need some air." John said getting up and collecting his jacket. Atlas peered over her book and looked at Sherlock as if to say, go with him. Sherlock moved Rosie off his knee and he got up and went with him.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

"ARE you alright?" Sherlock asked as he ran to catch up with John on the street. John seemed slightly agitated as they continued down the street. Sherlock became increasingly concerned when he took a long time to answer.

"It's just a surprise, that's all. I haven't seen them in a long time, not since the...well the-"

"The wedding." Sherlock finished as he shared a look with John. They had now passed down a few alleys and reached a neighbouring park, entering the dim lit area. 

Nearing a tree Sherlock stopped, causing John to turn around and look at him.

"John...I..." Sherlock began as he looked at the man he fancied, feeling utterly powerless.

"Your never lost for words." John laughed, and then his eyes caught Sherlock's and he held the other's man gaze for a moment. 

"I..."

And then it happened, it felt fast but took time. Sherlock's blue eyes held John's own and it happened. Their lips touched and it was like electricity all over and then John pulled away looking confused. Looked at Sherlock's face, and went back for a second time. Then pulled away, looking confused. They were confused men for a change, not the ones who knew all the answers.

Sherlock rubbed his lips and looked at his fingers before nodding his head and laughing. John looked at him sideways.

"I've...I've always liked you." Sherlock blurted out, clasping a hand over his mouth after saying it. John looked at him confused mixed with hurt. "I never...never knew how to say it. And then it was all happening so fast and you were marrying Mary and you looked happy. Happier than you were when you would speak to me before Mary. And so I let you go."  
Sherlock paused looking away from the shorter man, there must have been dust blowing in his eyes. "And that was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do and the most human." His throat constricted, the variation in his voice not going unnoticed. He remembered vividly all the drugs, the stubble, the mess that he was. A pang in his chest struck him, like a pain.

"I was too scared of disappointing everyone." John said quietly, looking at Sherlock bleary eyed. "I'd already married Mary, I already had a kid with her and I wasn't...I didn't want to ruin it. I was afraid of losing it. Losing them. And then...I lost her. And it was too late."

"Mary knew." Sherlock said. "Knew I was gay." They walked over to a park bench and took a seat, directly below a street lamp. "I...I thought you were straight. You kept saying 'not gay', and it sounds stupid but everytime you uttered those words it hurt. It would come and go but..."

"You knew that I was with Mary." John said quietly. "And that you'd made the vow. God, I'm sorry Sherlock. If I'd known..."

"You couldn't have known." Sherlock said comfortingly, before looking up at the sky trying to blink away tears. "I'm not very good at this."

"I wouldn't say your bad at it." John sighed before looking at Sherlock, tall and brooding suddenly became tall and....perfect? All this time of loving his best friend so much it hurt, John didn't want to ruin the friendship they had built. 

"I..." John began but Sherlock silenced him with a third and final kiss. And when they pulled away they smiled at each other. 

"I'm Bi." John said on their walk home. "So...not gay." He laughed, Sherlock accompanied with a baritone chuckle and they looked at the sky. Something to admire in this moment of rare peace.


	22. The Other Grandparents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cringeeeeee.
> 
> Homophobic comments pretty much throughout.

ATLAS was out with Timothy when John's parents arrived promptly on the doorstep of 221B. They'd been out, trying to persuade the local publisher to publish his book and so Wanda, Rosie, John, Sherlock waited in trepidation for their return. Mrs Hudson was down in Cornwall checking on some new property she had just bought, whilst Mycroft was working to stop a plan similar to Guy Fawkes. 

The doorbell rang causing some of the room to startle. Sherlock had been playing his violin silently in the corner and hadn't stopped, insisting he had to finish the melody first. It was not his own, but yet another duet piece that would only have piano with it. She told him to put his own ornaments in as long as he kept the time. 

John sighed as Rosie sat on the piano stool, her legs swinging beneath her. He put down his book on the side table and got up, darting down the stairs to the front door. Rosie was up and dancing around to the melody when his parents came in the room. She continued to dance for a small amount of time, her hair swinging around her shoulders. Often she didn't tie it up, Atlas didn't and as she took most of her cues from her. His father remained stern faced, whereas his mother's softened slightly. Upon seeing these strangers, Rosie went wide eyed as Sherlock put the violin down and turned to look at them. His hair was unkempt as he gave a goofy smile, Rosie getting up and standing near his leg. She pulled, the fabric becoming taught as he lifted her up and held her in his left arm. 

"These are your other grandparents Rosie." Sherlock smiled, dropping a small hint to his mother and to John's parents that himself and John might just be an item now. Atlas had figured it out the night before and told Mrs Hudson, who then told Rosie. However, Mrs Hudson had left that morning, Atlas wasn't here and Rosie didn't speak to strangers or people she was uncomfortable with.

Rosie looked at them, before wriggling in Sherlock's arms in a plea to be let down. He put her down, and then she ran, as fast as her little legs could carry her to behind Wanda's chair. There you could see a pair of eyes, staring over the back. 

"Don't like." Rosie whispered. Just loud enough for Wanda to hear, and the child walked around and climbed into her lap. Then presenting two hair bobbles, sat as he light brown hair was fashioned into two french plaits. Wanda and Timothy put everyone in the family at ease and so Rosie had quickly become accustomed to them. She liked Wanda alot and often curled up on her lap or had her hair done. She enjoyed stories read by Timothy, but the best ones are when they make them up together.

"Nice to meet you." Sherlock said, somewhat uncertain of himself. He did not produce a hand, but instead went off into the kitchen. Desperately he tried to clear any evidence that he may on occasion burn hair or worse body parts at the table.

"Wanda is Sherlock's mother." John said gesturing to where Wanda was sat with Rosie.

"Is that Rosie?" His mother asked, her accent more proper than anyone could have been expecting.

"Yes..." John said, a long silence occupying the room. "She doesn't speak."

"She doesn't speak? My, John I expected you to raise your children better." John's father said, Sherlock looked over at him. He wanted to intervene, to say that John was a bloody good father. John had told him before that his father was also called John (John Sr.) and his mother was called Josephine (Jo to anyone who asked).

"She's mute and only speaks to people she is really comfortable with." Sherlock said from the kitchen as he was heard shoving something into a drawer. Silence occupied the room yet again.

Sherlock randomly appeared with two large teapots and cups, sugar and milk. Placing them on the table he shared a look with John before deciding that his bow needed more resin.

Around ten minutes after their arrival, Atlas and Timothy could be heard entering the building. Their footsteps approached the steps before the door opened and in stepped Atlas and Timothy. They hung their jackets on the rack before stopping as they saw their new guests.

"Did you get it published?" John asked as he walked over from the bookcase. Atlas and Timothy exchanged a look before they both nodded eagerly. Wanda bustled over to Timothy kissing him on the cheek before saying.

"I knew you could do it!" And hugging him. Then Wanda hugged her granddaughter eagerly.  
"Thank you so much for giving him the confidence to try."

Rosie hugged Atlas' legs before hugging Timothy's. John and Sherlock came over and joined in the celebration. John's parents stood looking confused as their eyes flashed over the dark haired girl.

"Mum, dad. This is Atlas." John said motioning towards the girl who stood. 

"Nice to meet you." Atlas said, producing a hand, smiling. Although her face faltered midway through John Sr's handshake. 

"Excuse me." She said as her face dropped and she went into the kitchen, her eyes to the floor. No-one paid much heed, except for John Sr and Jo. They were confused about her as she moved away from them.

Sherlock understood, he'd read them too, learnt everything he could about them. It was in these moments that he hated being able to read people and Atlas did too. It wasn't always desirable to know everything about everyone, too much info. 

The teenager looked around the kitchen, found the book she had just finished and made her way over to the bookcase. She looked at it thoughtfully before Sherlock sidled up beside her and looked at the books thoughtfully. She pulled out a few and looked at the blurbs before putting them back and sighing.

"I'm assuming you read it too?" Sherlock asked as Atlas looked at him before looking back at the bookcase and nodding. Often when there was a lot on her mind she remained quiet and more thoughtful.

"I..." She began but remained quiet instead, looking slightly upset. 

Once John had finished his conversation with parents he walked over to Sherlock and put a hand on his shoulder. He forced Sherlock to turn around to look at the room of people. Atlas, still refusing to turn around. 

"I have something I need to tell you all." John said smiling as he looked across everyone. His parents however made him frown. "Me and Sherlock are," _Deep breath._ "Together."

Atlas looked at them in surprise that they had told all of them and then she averted her eyes to John's parents. They weren't going to like this. Immediately their posture's tensed, his father requesting John to join him by the window. 

"A man. You are a man. You should be with a woman, not some man." John's father said clapping a hand to his shoulder. "Don't be a faggot." He then whispered as he walked away. Little did he know but someone in the corner quietly observed. Neither Atlas or Sherlock paid much heed from where they were, lip movements were never their forte. But over by the sofa, one little girl watched as her father was called one horrible thing. Her face screwed up, mortified.

Atlas squatted down to Rosie's height as she noticed the girls expression. 

"You alright, squid?" Atlas asked laughing as the girl frowned and looked at her before leaning forward and whispering.

"Papi just got called a faggot." Rosie whispered, eyes going wide as she looked at Atlas. Her eyes were blue like her father's and her mother's from what Atlas had seen in photos. Atlas looked at John Sr in random disgust before standing.

"I propose a walk!" Atlas exclaimed, the dog immediately becoming interested. The tension in the air felt heavy and she knew she wasn't the only one. "Redbeard hasn't had his walk yet today."

Atlas collected her coat and the dog lead, the rest of the family following begrudgingly in suit. They didn't know where they were being led, but suddenly they didn't care either. They followed her as she carried on down several alleyways before coming out into a section of woodland. Then she let the dog off the lead and continued on down the path. 

"How did you know it was here?" John asked, confused as Atlas held back and walked next to him.

"I studied the map of London, then one day while in a taxi noticed the discrepancy, went searching. Learnt that this is private land, but I did some stuff to help out the outdoor school who owns it and they said I could use it for dog walking. They were caught up in some white collar crime against them." Atlas explained, as if it was the most normal thing in the entire world. Whatever "normal " is. To the unit of four, this was normal. Some discovery and a high speed explanation was satisfactory on keeping them occupied. So far, Atlas much more preferred Timothy and Wanda over Jo and John Sr.

Rosie got Sherlock to follow her whilst Atlas and John walked together ahead of the four parents.

"What do you think?" Jo probed as she looked at Wanda and Timothy expectantly.

"About what?" Wanda asked her eyes looking wide in realisation.

"About them being together. It's not exactly a match made in heaven." Jo replied looking over somewhat bitterly as Sherlock and Rosie squatted down looking at bugs and Atlas was trying to chicken leg John.

"I personally don't think men are good together." John Sr said, not realising what his homophobic comment may stir.

"Me and Timothy have been on a mission to get them together for years." Wanda said, looking at her husband before back at Atlas who was being drawn into a side hug from John. Ahead of them Sherlock punched a huge tree, Rosie doing the same as she realised it was soft. Her eyes went wide and she laughed before Sherlock then went off to show her some flowers.

Atlas then joined Sherlock and Rosie further up ahead looking at insects, John hanging back to walk with the parents.

"John. Me and your mother are concerned." John Sr said his eyebrows furrowing to cover his eyes slightly. "We don't think two dads is a good environment to raise children up in." 

John stopped walking and looked at his dad, disbelieving.

"What?" John said swallowing hard.

"We don't think it's right dear. Rosie should grow up without the pressure." Jo said looking at her son. Timothy and Wanda moved to stand behind John, as if they were supporting his and Sherlock's decision.

"What pressure? Cause I married the wrong person. And it kills me to say it, but I married the wrong person. And that man..." John looked over to Sherlock. "Is one of the greatest men I know. In fact he may even be the best."

"But don't you think he's a little...crazy?" John Sr said. Wrong move. Now he had the wrath of Wanda to put up with.

"My son is many things, but crazy is not one of them." Wanda said standing infront of John defensively. "If my son makes your son happy, then why should we try to change that?"

"Why? Why do you always have to go and ruin it?" John asked looking at his dad. "You ruined it with Harry and now she's been through hell. She left home when she was sixteen and she was the only piece of family I had. And even when I went through the worst pain, you weren't there when my best friend had to die for two years to stop me from getting shot, when I came back from the war, when my wife died. No, my best friend's parents were there more. " John said, in that quiet burning anger that he had. "I have finally realised that I might have a chance to be happy. Have a family." 

"I want to protect you." John Sr growled, his wife nodding her head in agreement. John had been friends with Sherlock long enough however to know when someone was lying.

"Then let me go. Leave. Don't see me. Don't contact me." John said through gritted teeth.

"Good. It seems we have an agreement." John Sr said, Jo looking on a little mournfully. For a moment John saw a flicker of regret and hurt - as if she wanted to try.

"John." Jo said pleadingly to her son, as if she was trying to make it back up to her son.

"Aw, just fuck off will you?" John asked, Jo looking at her husband before he sighed.

"Maybe the news articles are right. Maybe that friend of yours is a freak and maybe that kid of his is just the same. A freak." John Sr said. And then John punched him, square in the jaw, before holding his hand as it throbbed in pain. Atlas was his kid, he wanted to be her dad. And they were _not_ freaks.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎• 

BACK at 221B John put his hand in ice as he attempted to soothe his pain.

"What did he say?" Sherlock asked as he stood by the sink, looking at John over his shoulder. John shook his head, refusing to give an answer.

"He spoke about me and you." Atlas said jumping up onto the kitchen counter and looking at John. "I believe it was the banned word."

"How -" John began but then Atlas looked at Rosie and he understood. 

"I can lip read!" Rosie exclaimed her little face lighting up in excitement. "I've been practicing."

"And what does everyone say?" Atlas asked as she looked at the girl who was standing in the doorway.

"You mumble book quotes when you think no-one's looking." Atlas nodded her head to that as Rosie giggled. "Papi doesn't speak much anyway. Your more of a thinker."

"And what about Sherlock?" Atlas asked.

"Dad just swears a lot." Rosie giggled as Sherlock shot her a look. Rosie laughed and hugged his legs, her light brown/golden hair swinging behind her. "Love you though dad." 

Sherlock squatted down to her height. "And me to you."

Sherlock then took Rosie through to the living room to read more of their book as Atlas spoke to John.

"Just so you know." Atlas said. "Your my pa too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Help meeeee. Why am I doing this to people??


	23. Lying With A Dead Body

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe another trigger?
> 
> I don't know at this point. Probably all the chapters have something in it but imma go ahead and say this now. This is the Sherlock fandom, you can expect a lot of triggers but I will try to mention them when I identify them.
> 
> This one is so 'The Haunting of Hill House'. Something that would deffo happen to Nell.

ATLAS woke. Her bedroom feeling unusually cold and she shook. Dragging her hand down her side her hand brushed against something else. Confused she moved her fingers over the sheet her hands came across another unknown object. She shook internally before bringing up enough courage to look to her left. A silhouette of a face and Atlas just looked at it.

The speed of her breathing quickened as she couldn't move a single limb in her body. She opened her mouth to speak but all that came out was a petrified moan of desperation. She tried again, again and again and yet little sound was produced. Suddenly, she managed to move her arm and it sent her book that had been sitting on her bedside table flying towards the floor. She needed to escape. And fast. This body wasn't dead, it was alive. And worst of all it was looking at her.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

Sherlock read the clock. 1am. Shit. _Brain, why won't you just fuck off for once?_ He decided to get up, swinging his covers off and leaving John peacefully sleeping in his side of the bed. He went through into the living room. Then it occured to him. Why? There was nothing he was going to be able to do when he was in there. Nonetheless he continued onwards and entered the room. He had yet to read his fathers book and there were plenty of copies lying around the flat, waiting to go to local bookshops. Slowly he picked it up, tossing it in his hands.

He opened the front cover, his eyes going to what was written on the front page. He assumed Atlas hadn't seen it. Infact he knew she hadn't, she didn't need to read the book she helped write.

His father had written:

 _Let me get one thing straight before you read this book. This was not written solely by me. Infact it was edited and re-written by my granddaughter, and I suppose I owe it all to her. Without her, I would not have had the confidence to pick this up and continue writing it. It has lain as a dormant hand cut leather back on my bookshelf. She was the bookworm who endeavoured to discover. Throughout the re-writing of this book I sat in my son's study with the input of the family - Rosie, John, Sherlock, Mycroft and my beloved wife Wanda._

Then, over the page he had written:

_For Atlas, for without her, all this would not have been a possibility._

After around 25 pages Sherlock heard a medium loud crash and his eyes went wide. He put it to something minor and went back to his book, before hearing another, similar sound. This time it was more like a persistent groan, or cry for help. And then he heard it, a loud gasp and another crash. He entered the hallway and listened out for more. Upon hearing the sound was coming from Atlas' room he entered his eyes darting around, taking in as much as he could.

Quickly he darted to the bedroom to find John. He'd seen the body and knew where Atlas was. When Sherlock re-entered Atlas was behind the door, her knees tucked to her chin.

"You check the body on the bed." Sherlock instructed John as the man scuttled over to the mystery. Atlas sat looking cold and frightened. "Atlas. Atlas look at me, was there anyone else in the room." She shook her head furiously in response and Sherlock stood to look at the dead body. Atlas stood with him.

"He's not dead." Atlas concluded for them as John was about to take his pulse. It was now that Atlas' stomach churned. Weeks ago she was sat in the window. One of the nights Sherlock had lost his memory, and he was one of the men in pursuit of a younger woman. She'd thought nothing of it - until now. He had a recognisable moustache, not a common thing among men, and a balding head. Atlas' eyes kept looking over to the dead body, tears spilling in her eyes.

She felt so stupid. So, so stupid. Making a big deal of something so small. Why was she like this? Always making a big drama?

"Atlas." John said taking her face between his two hands. "Atlas, look at me." The girl turned to look at him as she looked afraid. "It's alright. Your safe." Atlas looked at him before looking at the body. 

"He's not dead." She remarked again looking at John seriously. "He's armed, I'm sure." Sherlock pulled back the covers after putting on his leather gloves. Beneath the covers the body was revealed to be fully clothed in a suit and tie. It looked as thought he'd been purposefully lain there. 

Sherlock rang for the police and ambulance in order to dispose of the body. 

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

AFTER the body had been disposed of and everyone had left the small flat everyone's sleep schedule's had become disrupted. 

Atlas and Rosie had been sat, cross legged on Sherlock and John's bed having an in depth conversation. Rosie was attempting to keep Atlas occupied on something other than the fact she had woken up with a dead body some hour and a half ago. John soon came into the room looking absolutely knackered. He climbed onto the bed and shuffled back against the headboard. Atlas lay down in the middle of the bed next to John, Rosie lying with her head on his legs.

A little while later Sherlock came in to see them all speaking to each other about something.

"That was eventful." Atlas said once Sherlock had gone under the covers and lain down.

"Are you alright though?" John asked as he lay himself down too, Rosie clambering over to lie in the crook of Sherlocks arms. 

"I think so." Atlas said giving Sherlock a quick hug before rolling over closer to John. "I...I...I just." Atlas took a breath. "Can I lie here tonight? I'm..."

"Afraid." Sherlock said analysing her face. Shamefully Atlas nodded before looking at John, somewhat pleasingly.

"Yeah. Why not?" John said before Atlas got up. She retrieved herself and Rosie some warm blankets and they lay on top of the duvet. They all told each other stories till around 3:30am before falling asleep one by one. Including Sherlock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More cringe.


	24. My Dear Watson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No triggers.

ATLAS woke early, earlier than everyone else. For once Sherlock was sleeping so she slid off the bed and out the door, grabbing a glass of water from the kitchen. She stood infront of the sink.

Her mind flashed back to the night before, her blood running cold. She looked out across the table her eyes flashing images of a dead body before her. Her eyes darted a little before she came to her senses and realised she was just imagining things.

"Atlas, are you arlight?" Sherlock said taking the glass out of her hand and setting it on the counter. She looked at him before nodding.

"I'm just tired." Atlas replied. "I'm as good as I can be for waking up next to a dead body." Atlas chuckled looking at her father. He looked at her skeptically before putting the kettle on. "I'm assuming Greg will be around today."

"Who?"

"Lestrade." Atlas said for what felt like the umpteenth time. She didn't understand how his brain couldn't remember the important things. Sherlock didn't say anything more before proceeding to put milk in his mug. Atlas had observed the way he was making his tea in surprise - she would have put the tea first.

While he waited for the kettle boiled they stood in an awkward silence. Atlas didn't really know what to bring up but before she could think of something, Sherlock spoke again. 

"Did you see anyone in the room last night?" Sherlock asked Atlas giving him a look as if to say 'if-I-had-I-would-have-said-so-last-night.' Atlas looked at Sherlock her face faltering slightly. All she could remember was a pale face of a man, still alive, planted. Or did he put himself there? She couldn't tell. As she got lost in her own mind Sherlock moved away from where he was standing.

He enveloped her in a hug, his arms wrapping around her tightly. "Its alright to be afraid."

"Says the man who's never afraid." Atlas said as she rested her cheek against his dressing gown.

"I have been scared. I have been so scared, so worried. I thought when you came that I was going to be an awful dad. Both times. And I was afraid of my sister when she was going on a little bit of a killing spree."

"What's your biggest fear?" Atlas asked before Sherlock answered.

"Losing my sight." Sherlock answered quietly. Atlas looked up at him before hugging him again.

"Thank you."

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

"MY dear Watson." Sherlock said kindly as he made his way over to Rosie who was sat colouring in at the desk. "What are you up to?" 

"Drawing you!" She said holding up the image and smiling. She giggled as Sherlock looked at the picture. "It's not finished." She said taking it back and colouring in the rest of the drawing.

Atlas came in, smiling happily.

"What are you drawing?" Atlas asked peering over the younger girl's shoulder.

"Sherlock." And "Me." Were heard at the same time as Atlas giggled. The picture was accurate.

"I think she has represented you perfectly." Atlas said clapping her dad on the shoulder as he gave her a look. She just shrugged her shoulders (🤷🏻) before going to help John make some toast.

Sherlock took a seat next to Rosie and opened the paper and began reading. He often didn't find the paper useful, just amusing. Especially when someone thinks that they have solved a case but in reality they haven't and he'll probably get called to the scene. There were endless reports of births, deaths, cars and sports - none of which Sherlock found interesting. He sighed flicking through the rest of the pages before handing John the paper. He too couldn't find anything of interest and so the broadsheet was quickly disregarded and placed to one side.

"What are we doing today?" Rosie asked, her eyes going around everyone in turn. Her light brown hair hinting blonde as it curled itself into ringlets that resembled what Mary used to have. Her bright blue eyes scanned everyone in turn. Sometimes she looked like how Atlas imagined Mary may have looked like. Any photos of the woman had been put away. John loved her but Atlas knew there was more to it, she just couldn't figure out what. As if she had done something, betrayed them.

"Me and your pa have some work to go through." Sherlock explained looking at her. Her eyebrows furrowed in response.

"People?" She asked looking at John who just nodded in response. Rosie had become accustomed to strange and funny looking people entering the house at open hours and appointment times. She found it quite entertaining and Atlas had been helping her to observe people as they came in the door. 

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

ATLAS sat in the window reading a book, Rosie sitting near her feet colouring in her map again. The dog had lain down next to Rosie, his nose putting snot on her map. This was normal for people based case days. There they couldn't be seen, Rosie was largely self sufficient as commonly she would nap against the dog.

The first case to come in were two morris dancers who claimed to have had fraud committed against them. They were separate cases but they came together because they thought that they were linked. Infact they had been stealing from each other and so therefore both parties had committed fraud.

The second was a scientist, the third a nun, the fourth a psychologist and the fifth a cosplayer. It was at this point Atlas stopped counting and continued reading her book. When all of the days cases had gone through before 4pm Lestrade promptly appeared on the doorstep.

"The man has passed away." He informed the family as they sat or stood in several places across the room. "We haven't got an identification on him yet, however, we believe the reason you saw no-one was due to the fact..."

"He put himself there." Atlas finished off for Lestrade who looked at her. "We just don't know why."

"Exactly." Lestrade said before he dismissed himself. There was nothing else he could tell them due to the short supply of information. 

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

"William Scott Sherlock Holmes, you, John, Atlas and Rosie are joining us at the rented cottage whether you like it or not." Wanda said as she stood just inside the door of 221B. "I've already booked it for April."

"We know it's around two months away, but we just wanted to make sure you were on board. We all need to get away. Together." Timothy explained to there son who grudgingly nodded his head. 

"Eurus will be joining us under Mycroft's supervision." Wanda added.

"Woah. Hold up. We didn't agree to Eurus." John said putting his hand out in defence for himself.

"She is problematic." Sherlock explained, backing his partner up.

"She is getting better Sherlock. And besides, you know what she's like around family. She won't hurt them." Wanda said looking over to where Rosie had fallen asleep leaning against the dog and Atlas was still sat reading her book.

"Fine." Sherlock agreed. "But don't make this a routine. It's too human."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg I just realised how much Atlas cries in this. 
> 
> Oops.
> 
> Teehee.


	25. Moments Like This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, Eurus is like this sarky character in this book series lol.

A POOL of red blood swirled around the drain of an underground bunker shower. Sherlock analysed it, clean eyes assessing where it had splattered. Over his shoulder the doctor watched keenly as he noticed that the blood spray was most likely caused by an aorta cut or some form of major blood vessel. 

They had been called to the case late last night and returned this morning when a second murder had happened. It was as if they were playing a real life game of winky murder. Atlas was preoccupied elsewhere looking after Rosie. It wasn't a common occurrence as for Rosie would normally stay with Mrs Hudson or maybe Molly if she was free. However, Atlas would normally join them and help complete the investigation. 

Once they had finished the two men returned to the apartment quietly choosing to walk their way home. By this point the light had dwindled and they had since moved over to Scotland Yard to check over some details. Because the light was low, the two men linked fingers and continued walking along the pavement. Their shadows grew and shrunk as they walked along beneath the lampposts.

"Are you arlight?" Sherlock asked John as they walked next to each other. John looked up at Sherlock and met his eyes.

"I'm fine. Yeah, I think I'm fine." John said smiling at the man he had grown to love.

"That's good." Sherlock said smiling in return.

"What about you?" John asked, knowing that Sherlock never normally was comfortable showing any emotions.

"Good too." Sherlock said in short. Then he looked down at John. "I'm worried about Atlas. I hope she hasn't been too put off by that incident the other night. Rosie appears fine."

"I think we need to see a doctor Sherlock." John said. "About Rosie's problem with being mute. I'm worried it's -"

"A mental health issue." Sherlock finished nodding as he spoke. John looked slightly teary so Sherlock stopped walking and turned to look at John. 

"She'll be alright." Sherlock said putting a hand to his cheek and then hugged him tightly. 

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

THE two men arrived home, Sherlock immediately taking a seat on his chair. John collecting two mugs of tea. He came back through and placed them in the appropriate places.

"Atlas left a note. She took the dog for a walk with Rosie." John said after placing the mugs of tea down.

"I wondered where they had gone off to." Sherlock remarked as John stood the the side of his chair. Before John knew it, his legs had folded beneath him and he was sent crashing towards the ground. The world around him swirling in a pool of black.

Atlas and Rosie arrived home to see an ambulance outside. They rushed up the stairs, the dog bounding ahead of them as they ascended. Before them an unconscious John was being loaded onto a stretcher, Sherlock looking flustered and concerned. Atlas analysed the cold tea and realised this may have happened some time ago.  
 _Only one in the ambulance._ Atlas recalled before taking Rosie's hand and watching as John was taken down the stairs, Sherlock following in quick pursuit.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

SHERLOCK sat, his heading his hands in the waiting room as he waited. Waiting to be able to go and see John, waiting to see if he was going to be alright.

"Hello brother." Mycroft sliding onto the uncomfortable chair next to him. Both men were high profile but lay undisturbed in silent recognition. Mycroft put a hand to his brothers back in reassurance and to his surprise Sherlock did not try to shrug it away. 

Later on, Eurus appeared. She'd followed Mycroft when he'd left in such a hurry. Apparently she was staying with Mycroft for the time being. 

"If you promise not to misbehave you can stay." Sherlock warned as Eurus nodded her head in reply. Sherlock stood, looking around slightly. 

Two bus journey's later and Atlas and Rosie had arrived outside the hospital. The traffic was busy and Atlas checked her watch, 9 PM. Quite a lot later than when John had been taken into the hospital. She walked into the hospital, Rosie sleepily trudging along beside her, the toy dinosaur clutched to her chest. A little had was encased inside a larger one and Atlas' heart raced. 

Once by the waiting room Rosie spotted Sherlock standing and she let go of Atlas' hand racing towards Sherlock. She wouldn't say anything as she ran towards him, but her footsteps were heard. Sherlock turned around to see Rosie running towards him, tears streaming down her forlorn face. Sherlock squatted down and scooped the crying child up, her head burying into his shoulder. 

"Hey, hey, hey." Sherlock said rubbing her back soothingly. Rosie pulled away and looked at her dad, Sherlock tucking a strand of lost hair behind her ear.

Atlas walked forward and gave Sherlock a hug too before she too looked at him, her eyes showing tiredness.

"Nice to meet you properly." Atlas said to Eurus before giving Mycroft a hug. Four and a half genius minds, knew that there need not be any explanation for Atlas' speech. And they relished the moment.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

AROUND half an hour later a kind nurse appeared to take Sherlock to see John. Everyone agreed that he would go and see what state his partner was in, before the girls would.

Slowly he walked in to see John in a hospital gown. To his right, a table stood, his clothing piled up neatly in a pile. Sherlock walked over and touched the jumper, his fingers feeling through the soft material. Beside where he stood John lay, a tube ran into his mouth. He's been told that he was currently unconscious and he may remain this way for a while, but if would be hard to tell. He finally looked at him, his face feeling hot as tears swelled in his eyes.

"What's happening to you?" Sherlock asked quietly. He brushed his fingertips over the top of John's hand, letting out a breath of pain. Then he turned, furiously blinking away any evidence of tears and going to collect the girls. 

"Rosie." Sherlock said squatting down opposite her. "Papi is going to look a little bit weird and scary alright?"

Rosie nodded before Sherlock scooped her up in one arm. His other hand took Atlas' as they went into the hospital room. Atlas went forward a little and stopped, tears forming in her eyes. Rosie however wriggled out of Sherlock's grasp and stayed stood behind him.

"Come on. It's alright." Sherlock said taking Rosie's hand as he walked over to the bedside with her. She looked at her father, Sherlock letting go of her hand, only for her to take it back again.

"Get well soon." She whispered her free hand reaching forward to touch her papa's. Then she started to cry, sobs of fear rocking their way through her body, Sherlock taking her back up into his arms as he comforted her.

"For the first time in my life." Atlas whispered. "I can't deduce what's wrong or solve the puzzle." She bit her lip in an attempt to prevent the tears from falling. She sighed taking a seat to the side of the bed, Sherlock taking one nearer.

Rosie's crying had marginally subsided and now she just snuffled into Sherlock's jacket. She was cold in here, the room was cold, everything felt cold. Atlas glanced over at John again. She hated that she couldn't figure out what was going on, she was sure Sherlock was feeling it too.

"I'm cold." Rosie whispered, Sherlock wrapping his jacket around her as she snuggled into his chest. Sighing as Sherlock kissed her forehead. Atlas leaned against Sherlock's shoulder as she kept her eyes on John, wrapping her own red coat around herself. 

At the door Mycroft and Eurus watched. They both smiled as Sherlock sat with the two girls, both of them smiling at each other. 

"Your a good dad, Sherlock." Eurus applauded as her and Mycroft walked in, keeping their voices down as Rosie remained swaddled. Atlas had fallen asleep against his arm, her red jacket contrasting Sherlock's black jacket. Sherlock smiled at them bleary eyed, somehow showing his emotions before his siblings. 

"I'm surprised your so upset." Mycroft said, Eurus elbowing him in the arm which he held in defence. 

"Of course I'm upset." Sherlock hissed at Mycroft. "But I don't suppose you'd understand that. You've never cared about anyone."

Eurus' eyes softened as she looked at her brother who hung his head as the girl encased in his arms shuffled to a more comfortable position. The head of a soft toy dinosaur could just be seen poking through the gap in Sherlock's jacket. Mycroft looked taken aback by what Sherlock had said to him, but they all knew it was true.

"Caring is weak." Mycroft retorted.

"Then I must be one of the weakest people alive. But at least I will be happy and not living in some big house that is sagging in depression. At least I will have people to fill my house and not leave it cold." Sherlock said through gritted teeth, he was trying desperately not to wake Rosie.

"I have servants." Mycroft protested.

"And that's the difference. You don't know what it's like. My...Our," He said, his eyes looking over to John who lay still on the bed. "Small, cosy flat is filled with laughter, dog hair and the smell of Mrs Hudson's tea making skills. It's not filled with people doing everything for us as if we are invalids."

"Sherlock, you really are starting to care." Mycroft laughed, his nose pointing in snide.

"I know." Sherlock said looking over to John again. "But I know one thing, I'm happier for it."

"Mycroft, before you say anything, don't be such a dick. Showing emotion is courageous. You, my dear _dear_ brother." Eurus said patting Mycroft's shoulder."Are the coward in this room." Eurus added, looking at her older brother pointedly before crouching down to get a better look at Rosie. 

"She's very pretty." Eurus said, then confusion fluttered over her face before realisation. "Mary's?"

Sherlock nodded before looking over to where Atlas had fallen asleep.

"She's definitely yours though." Eurus added, laughing as Sherlock smiled at her. Mycroft looked like he was softening but then he turned on his heel and left, beckoning Eurus to follow.

After some time had passed Rosie woke up, still inside Sherlock's jacket.

"Dad?" She said, her voice catching his attention. 

"Yes Watson?" He asked, making her giggle, then her face faltered.

"Is papi going to die?" Her eyes going wide as Sherlock planned his next answer carefully.

"You know I can't promise you anything. We just have to wait it out and see what happens." Sherlock said. "Do you think you can do that?"

Rosie nodded before putting her hands back against Sherlock's face.

"Seeing you sad makes me sad dad." 

"I know sweetheart. I know."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's bad.
> 
> Oh and Rosie's dinosaur toy is like that green one that you can get from Jellycat.


	26. Mycroft's Letter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nightmares.

_Dear Future Me_

_I hope you are a better person than I am. A better man than I am. A better brother than I am. Some days, I just curl up, tight in the fetal position and lie there. I can't feel anything, I don't feel anything._

_My brother, Sherlock, keeps me up at night. I worry if he's going to fall off his perch one day and turn up dead down some alleyway. I shouldn't worry, he can handle himself, but he gets carried away so easily, I can just not be sure. I love him and I would hate it if anything bad was to happen to him - he is my little brother. Everyday it's another case, another thing to keep him off the drugs that are poisoning his body. He's getting better though, he's moving forward. He's got a family._

_My brother is a man, I never thought I'd see settle. Anywhere. I wouldn't like to say he's settled yet, I suspect him and his family will move out of London at some point in time. He's got a partner, lovely man, although I wouldn't like to admit it. Widowed and Sherlock was the best man at the wedding and he was broken. He had to watch the man he loved marry someone else. Sherlock has never been good with emotions or with showing them. However, if he had told the truth, maybe it would have changed how his life played out._

_He's got two lovely daughters. One is his own with his wife who...well there's no easy way to put it...she tried to kill their daughter. One is John's with his wife, Mary, who was shot. Atlas is the name of his own daughter, and in true Holmes fashion, Atlas is the second name in her full name. Her full name is Ida Atlas Elizabeth Holmes and she is sixteen, seventeen in November. Rosie is John's daughter and is four. She's light brown haired and couldn't be more impressive. Geography is her best subject. She's mute with people she doesn't like or doesn't know. She hasn't really spoken in my presence, but I know she has in the presence of both my parents._

_Eurus is staying with me for the time being, just until I can let her go and not worry about her trying to take over the world. She seems quite fond of Rosie and Atlas. I'm hoping that eventually she can be moved into a flat somewhere and be a little bit more independent - with regular, supported visits._

_Then there's me. I fall out with Sherlock repeatedly, I shouldn't be so horrible towards him I suppose._

_Let's write the thing I came here to my little study to write. John's ill. Well, when I say ill, I mean he collapsed. They suspect it was a heart arrhythmia or something, yet, he still hasn't woken. Currently he is in some sort of coma and it's very touch and go. And I did something stupid. I threw bitter and twisted words at my brother whilst he held a sleeping Rosie, Atlas sleeping against his arm. I feel so stupid and arrogant for not thinking._

_I've always through caring was a disadvantage. But I suppose I never really knew what caring was like, except for when it came to family matters. But I know for certain I will care if John never wakes up. I know I will._

_Mycroft Holmes_

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

That afternoon Mycroft made the ten minute car journey to the hospital. It was ten minutes due to the heavy traffic and everything else that was going on. He slowly walked into the room to find his brother alone. He assumed Atlas had gone home with Rosie for a while and were due to return, maybe with Mrs Hudson as she was due back from Cornwall. 

Mycroft stood in the door, paused in motion as his eyes flitted over his brother. Slightly disheveled, and still wearing the same clothes as the night before. He didn't even register his brother as Mycroft took a seat on one of the visitor chairs. 

"Sherlock, I'll watch him. You can go home and shower, maybe sleep?" Mycroft said looking at the side of his brother's head but he didn't move. 

"I thought you said caring was weak. A disadvantage." Sherlock spat as he turned his head further away.

"That was before I realised you were right." Mycroft said. 

And there you have it. The highest form of apology ever uttered by a Holmes. Admitting the other is right is something every Holmes would struggle with, whether they admit it, or not.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

The same night Sherlock went home, reluctantly. Leaving the perfectly capable Mycroft to be there when John woke up, at least that's what Mycroft thought. Mrs Hudson wasn't far away from the hospital, she'd cancelled her time in Cornwall short to make it there. Both Atlas and Rosie had gone to their beds after seeing that he had come home, the dog had been a mess of wagging tail and slobber that certainly made Sherlock smile slightly.

As Rosie slept she dreamt dreams of ponies and leprechauns, for a while. Then her dreams became convoluted with fears. She stood watching carefully as she saw Atlas standing infront of her. Then the sound of gunfire rang and she watched her beloved siblings knees buckle like a door hinge. A heap of bleeding out Atlas was all that was left as he eyes remained open but empty.

Second was Redbeard. Hit by a car. She watched it happen. Tried to run into the road and see him but no-one would let her. She started to run, running and running until she ended up in a hospital ward. The sound of a flatline filling her ears as she screamed out in pain. And she ran some more.

Her eyes then fell on Sherlock. He waved goodbye before jumping off a cliff and into the deep blue sea, his head not coming back up for breath. She screamed for him, she screamed for them all, then she crumbled. Her hands blowing away like ashes in the wind. She too was failing to keep it at bay. She began to sob, her hands out infront of her.

Sherlock had woken with a start, hearing some talking coming from Rosie's room. Curiosity getting the better of him he made his way there, his footsteps only increasing in speed when he realised she was crying and screaming in her sleep. He opened her door to find her sleeping, but gripping at her bed sheets. The normally quiet child was screaming out for help, before she began to sob, choking on her tears. Atlas soon came in after hearing Sherlock moving.

"Rosie. Rosie." Sherlock said nudging her slightly. "Rosie, your dreaming." This time her stroked hair out of her eyes and her eyes darted open. Her breathing was fast as she looked around the room, Sherlock taking a seat next to her.

"Ro." Atlas said, the name she had chosen adequately suiting in her humble opinion. Sherlock used it and now she did too, thinking it was nice. "Ro. Rosebud. Its us."

Her panicked expression faltered. "That's it." Pause. "My dear Rosamund Mary Watson, what goes on in that big mind of yours?"

Rosie then launched herself at Sherlock, her head burying into him. She shuffled as Sherlock rubbed her back.

"What's up Ro?" Sherlock said pulling away to look the girl in her eyes. They shined back at him before darting around in search for her dinosaur, Jeff. Upon seeing it, she picked it up and cuddled it between herself and Sherlock. Suddenly a padding could be heard as Redbeard nudged the door open and came to the side of the bed.

"Hello Red." Rosie giggled as he came and sat next to her. After some time Atlas got up and sat behind her sibling, Sherlock still holding her. 

"Everyone died." Rosie said, Sherlock holding her close. "You died dad. You, you died. And you died." Rosie said looking at Atlas. "And you." She said looking at Redbeard. "And papa." Rosie's face screwed up in thought. "Over and over and over and..." She fell into a mess if sobs and tears, her eyes stinging as she looked at Sherlock seriously. 

"What if Papi...What if papa dies?" Rosie cried slightly as Sherlock pulled her close. Sherlock's eyes spilled over with tears as he bit back the sob that wanted to escape his throat. Atlas joined the hug, the three of them feeling pain inside of themselves.

"Your father is one of and always will be one of the best and bravest men I know." Sherlock said taking Rosie's teary face between his hands as she sobbed. "Infact, he's maybe _the_ best and bravest." Sherlock was slowly beginning to choke on his own words. "And so that means that I think he's going to be fine."

"Promise?" Rosie warbled, Atlas comfortingly rubbing her shoulder.

"You...You know I can't promise anything." Sherlock said looking at her seriously. Rosie nodded numbly before hugging back. 

After some time Sherlock stood, chasing the dog back into his bed in the living room. Atlas followed Sherlock as he lay down in his bed, Rosie lying down at his side. Atlas climbed in too at they all lay there. Each one feeling numb in their own way as they lay on the bed. _Cold._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't even knowwww anymore.


	27. Recalling of Events

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Omg, she cries in this one too.

JOHN had finally woken up the next morning when they went to visit. He'd woken to see Mycroft which initially confused him but when the explanation was offered he understood. At least Sherlock would be catching some sort of sleep. 

After a brief period of time Atlas appeared, Sherlock and Rosie having gone off to the shop to buy John another newspaper incase he was awake. None of them knew if he would be, but everyday they would live in hope. Today was therefore a good day. 

"Mycroft just left." John smiled. Atlas nodded, trying desperately to keep her face as neutral and unreadable as possible. Then she placed her bag on the floor before taking a seat. 

"Rosie and Sherlock went to get you today's newspaper." Atlas said quietly, not looking up at John. The man sighed looking over at the ones he had not yet had chance to read. Another moment passed, John observing Atlas as she struggled to contain what she was feeling.

"Are you okay?" John asked, reaching his hand out and placing it over her hands.

"Do you remember me?" She asked, before secretly cursing herself for asking the question.

"Of course...of course I remember you. You are the wonderful and brilliant Ida Atlas Elizabeth Holmes. Who lives with me, John Hamish Watson, my partner William Sherlock Scott Holmes and her sister Rosamund Mary Watson." John said looking at her comfortingly. She gave a little laugh to his response before looking at him, teary eyed. 

"Let me deduce." John said putting on his deducing face. He held his hands the way Sherlock would when he was thinking. "You were worried that I was going to wake up and forget you. Weren't you?" Atlas gave a little nod before letting out a soft sob, her eyes screwing up.

"I knew...I knew you wouldn't. But I was so scared that if you did. You'd never remember." Atlas whispered. "I wouldn't blame you to be honest. When Sherlock lost his memory...you all looked happy."

"Oh kid." John said. He was half seated on the bed so Atlas sat in a position where she could easily reach across and hug him. She did so, both of them burying their heads on each others shoulders.

"Everyday when I spoke to him. He said he wished he could have remembered you. Just as I wish I had met _you_ sooner. Wish I'd known that my best friend had a daughter." Atlas pulled away, looked at him before going back to the hug.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

JOHN was set for release later that evening, the doctor's claiming it to be anemia. Nothing that iron tablets couldn't fix. They claimed the long lapse of unconsciousness was down to behind hit in the head when he hit the ground. He did hit the table on his way down.

It didn't seem right but that's what she had been told, so that's what she has to go by. For once in her life she didn't opt to contradict what they had said. It had been hard the past few weeks, what with Sherlock's memory loss over New Year and now this. It was also now that she and Sherlock had made themselves new rules. 

_1) We are not allowed to deduce Watson's. Ever. Unless we have to and we have no choice.  
2) We are not allowed to deduce Holmes'. Ever. Unless Mycroft is being a dick or we have no choice.  
3) We are not allowed to deduce Mrs Hudson. Ever. Unless we have no choice. _

These rules could insure that Atlas and Sherlock could properly work on their empathetic skills. Although, most of the time neither would reveal their emotions to anyone unless they lived in 221B. That was the only time and they were the only people who were allowed to see in. 

Together they were sat eating and talking. John had missed a few cases so everyone were eagerly filling him in on what he'd missed.

"Atlas. Me and Sherlock have had a talk and -" 

"Oh here we go." Atlas joked as she continued eating. 

"We want you to try out at a sixth form college somewhere when Rosie starts Reception in the summer." John said, Atlas dropping the fork onto her plate, it clanking loudly. She stared wide eyed at both men, looking mildly betrayed. 

"I...I." Atlas began, but found that she was lost for words. For the first time in a long while her face was readable, and both men knew she was rather unhappy with this decision.

"You can think on it a little." John suggested but Atlas continued to stare, definitely thinking.

"Yeah, I will." Atlas said unconvincingly, going to school wasnt going to work. Good things didnt happen. Never happened. She was called the banned word on more than one occasion and she was thrown insults. Now that John and Sherlock were together, she was so afraid of what people might say what might happen.

Later that evening John went to put Rosie to bed whilst Atlas remained in the living room, sitting in her chair. 

"School. We're talking about it." John declared, Atlas rolling her eyes as she continued reading her book.

"No, we are." John scolded before taking Atlas' book off her.

"Hey!" Atlas declared before Sherlock finally started to pay proper attention as he left his mind palace. She pouted before leaning back in her chair scowling like a Holmes at both her parents. Her arms were crossed and she frowned. 

"We are going to talk about this." Sherlock said persuasively, Atlas only slumping down further in his chair. "Me and John have discussed and we are going to put you into mainstream school and college. Rosie will be attending the primary school nearby." Sherlock explained, Atlas continued to scowl.

"You need to get out and see people." John said to her, putting a hand on her knee. 

"You need to get some friends." Sherlock joked, backing down when she continued to scowl.

"Me and...people...don't exactly get along." Atlas explained, hoping to persuade them another way but it clearly wasn't going to work.

"We know." John reassured, Sherlock nodding his head affirmatively. Atlas really wanted to try, but something was rising up her throat and bubbling in her stomach. Anxiety was crippling her and as usual she just continued to look dead ahead. 

"How...How did you manage dad?" Atlas asked looking over to her father who was looking at her.

"I found it hard. It's not easy, but it's never going to be easy. People make fun of you, yet you can't let that change you." Sherlock said, exchanging a look with John before he looked to see Atlas smiling at him. 

"Don't let anyone change you." John said.

"And knock them out if they call you the banned word." Sherlock laughed before John cut in.

"Don't do that." Atlas managed a little laugh before she leaned forward and gave Redbeard a hug, who had sat by her feet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hee hee.


	28. Family Gatherings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oml. This is getting to a ridiculous length. Think I will start another book in this series soon.

CAREFULLY, Atlas and John loaded up the car. It was currently 2pm and after a delayed start to the morning due to cases until the small hours, everyone had slept in. Rosie was currently making her way down the stairs talking idly to Sherlock about something or other. Over time Sherlock had remarkably warmed up to the idea of going out to a cottage for about a week with his estranged family. It landed over Rosie's 5th birthday too on the 24th of April. Rosie laughed as she handed her dad her rucksack to add to the luggage (and dog) in the boot. Atlas and Sherlock had brought their violins as comfortable entertainment, knowing Eurus was bringing hers and they could form a trio. 

"Have you got everything Rosie?" John asked as he stroked her hair down her back. It was so pretty under the sun, looking more blonde than brown and she smiled. Her teeth sucking on her bottom lip as she smiled up at him nodding. 

"Come on Ro." Sherlock said taking her by the hand and placing her in the car. Atlas helping John shut the boot after throwing Redbeard his toy inside. 

"Jeff!" She screeched. "I forgot Jeff!" Her eyes went wide at realisation the door to 221B had been shut and locked. She began to cry as she thought about not having her dinosaur. She loved him. He was green and was a stegosaurus called Jeff. No-one knew why she'd called him Jeff, but she had.

"I'll go get him." Sherlock said darting back to the house and finding Jeff. He looked at him momentarily before returning to his crying daughter and placing him in her hands. 

"Thank you daddy." Rosie giggled hugging the small dinosaur to her chest. 

"Alright sweetheart." Sherlock said kissing her forehead, the young girl giggling. 

"You got your phone and music Atlas?" John called back but there was no response, she was already listening to the music. "We'll take that as a yes." John had finally let Sherlock drive the car after much debate. Then, Redbeard began snuffling in Rosie's ear making her giggle. 

At 5pm they stopped for food and to walk the dog taking an hour and a half break. It was quite peaceful and they all laughed with one another and enjoyed their time there. They walked the dog about a mile and a half at a neighbouring forest and gave him a drink. Rosie sitting in the boot with him for a while whilst Atlas changed back into her high tops from some trainers. 

_Going to be late. - SH_

_Kids hold you up? - MH_

_No, a case. And we are driving with a dog that needs walking. - SH_

_Me and Eurus are nearly there. Mum and Dad already are. - MH_

By the time they arrived it was around 10pm and Rosie had fallen asleep.

"I'll get her." Sherlock said pulling up to park outside the cottage. It was called Otter Lodge and had a river at the bottom of the garden that no doubt the girls would play in with the dog. 

"I'll get Red." Atlas chirped from the backseat.

"I'll get the first lot of luggage." John said from the passenger seat and smiled. They exited the car seeing the other two already parked up. Sherlock had dressed more casually than normal wearing trousers closer to what John would wear, keeping the shirt - no blazer, and brown smart shoes that he could still do a lot in. He also wore a fleece over the top, opting for a much more comfortable look. Also Rosie, liked the feel of the fleece more. 

When they arrived at the door John opened it shouting a "hello" and entering. 

"Hello!" Wanda exclaimed walking over to the door becoming quiet when she saw Rosie sleeping over her sons shoulder. Atlas stood behind them with Red.

"Hello Redbeard." Timothy said as the dog bounded over to say hello to him. 

"Bless her." Wanda said noticing that Rosie had fallen asleep. Of course Jeff was still clutched in her hand. Sherlock walked in before asking where everyone was sleeping. Rosie had her arms wrapped around Sherlock's neck.

There were five bedrooms, Sherlock and John, Atlas and Rosie, Mycroft, Wanda and Timothy and then Eurus on her own. In the utility Redbeard would sleep. Eventually Eurus and Mycroft appeared from the kitchen... _Smiling._

Atlas and Rosie were sleeping up some stairs in the cottage - that was actually a wood cabin. They were off to the left and was directly above three other rooms. There was another room right next to the kitchen where Wanda and Timothy had already claimed. 

"I'll take her up to bed." Sherlock smiled, allowing John to plant a kiss on her forehead and Atlas to ruffle her hair slightly before going up. John watched as Sherlock negotiated the steps and entered the small room.

"She's very sweet." Wanda noted exchanging a smile with John who nodded in return. He had since placed the bags on the floor. Eurus and Rosie got on very well for some reason but one could assume that it was because neither were partial to chatter or speaking. 

Everyone settled in various chairs across the bottom floor. The roof was high, stretching upwards with chairs and rugs all over the place. There were two sofa's and three chairs in various places, all surrounding a large square shaped table. Eurus sat in a chair, Redbeard curling around her feet, whilst Wanda and Mycroft sat on opposite ends of the white cover sofa, Timothy sat in an armchair and John and Atlas were sat on the red sofa. Atlas had a closed book in her lap as she spoke with Timothy about a sequel book idea for the one he had written. Eurus was content with her thoughts until John decided to take up conversation with her. She didn't fight against this however as for John knew exactly how to speak to people of little words. Wanda and Mycroft meanwhile were otherwise engaged in conversation. 

Meanwhile, Sherlock had managed to put a sleeping Rosie to bed. He didn't bother changing her, she could potentially wake up. And besides, John had dressed her in comfortable clothing that morning. Tucking her in, he kissed her forehead, smiling whilst she slept. However, just as he was about to look away, he saw that she was stirring. 

"Dad." Rosie said quietly. "Huggles." Sherlock sighed and leaned down giving her a hug. Then she clung to him like a monkey, him standing up and hugging her close.

"Sleep Ro. You need sleep." Sherlock said putting her back in her bed and placing Jeff next to her.

"Atlas?" Rosie asked looking at the empty bed.

"Yes, Atlas will be sleeping in here." Sherlock said before kissing her cheek and standing up from her. 

"Night night." She drawled and finally Sherlock left the bedroom. When he got downstairs he sat between Atlas and John, lifting his arm for John to slot in. The conversation with Eurus now ending. 

"I'm going to bed." Atlas announced after some time. She began to get up but then Sherlock looped and arm round her waist and pulled her back down.

"Nope. Your not getting away." Sherlock said, surprising his family slightly. Atlas rolled her eyes and gave him a hug and kissed his cheek. Then she did the same to John.

"Goodnight John." Atlas said. "Goodnight everyone."

A chorus of _'good night's'_ filled the room as Atlas began to walk away.

"Your walking Red in the morning." Sherlock reminded and she shot a did-you-have-to? look at him. Then she remembered she might get paid and made her way to bed.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

THE following morning Atlas woke early and opted to make herself some breakfast. Wanda and Timothy had been shopping on their way over and picked up some food for the house. Along with it they brought whisky and wine - but only a small amount. Atlas let Red outside, knowing he would eventually come back and then she began making some toast. As she was retrieving the butter from the fridge she heard Wanda enter the kitchen.

"Hello dear." She said, Atlas smiling when she closed the fridge door. 

"Morning." Atlas chirped smiling before putting butter on her toast.

"You smile a lot more than your father." Wanda explained, Atlas giggling in response.

"I know. He only smiles when he's really relaxed and comfortable with people. Either that or when he's drunk or high. And he hasn't been high since I moved in." Atlas smiled before taking a seat at the kitchen table.

"What am I?" Sherlock said entering the kitchen and hearing the tail end of the conversation.

"We were saying how nice you are." Atlas joked before Sherlock shot her a look that made her laugh even more. 

"Oh Sherlock. What are we going to do with you?" Wanda asked as she began washing up some mugs from the tea last night. Sherlock didnt come with a snarky reply and only picked up a towel and dried off the mugs. 

"You know, I'd lost all hope of grandchildren." Wanda began, Sherlock sighing knowingly to her right. "Early on."

"Huh?" Sherlock replied looking at his mother.

"It was early on when I realised." Wanda explained. "But people change, don't they Sherlock?"

"People always change mum." Sherlock smiled. "There's never no hope."

"I believe there's hope for Eurus and Mycroft." Atlas piped up, jumping onto the counter and smiling Sherlock's goofy smile. "They just haven't found them yet." There was a pause. "Although, Eurus seems to suit being alone, she seems to enjoy it."

"No-one enjoys being alone." Wanda commented looking at Atlas accusingly. Before her eyes softened and she looked at the kid who reminded her so much of her own son. Yet there was so much of John inside her too. In the time she had lived there, john had influenced her decisions to great lengths and helped make her into who she is.

"True." Atlas agreed smiling before she exchanged a smile with Sherlock. 

"Thanks Sherlock." Wanda said as she looked at her son.


	29. Speech

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is interesting.
> 
> Enjoy!

"COME on Atlas. We'll go walk the dog." Sherlock said placing a hand on Atlas' shoulder. Atlas smiled slightly before jumping off the counter.

"I'll come too." Wanda announced putting a hand on Sherlock's shoulder. 

"Wait for me!" Rosie screeched wanting to join them as they were about to exit the door. She was still wearing her pyjamas but nobody cared.

"Jacket." Sherlock warned and she collected it, pulling on her wellies on her way. She took Wanda's hand and they began walking along a path. Sherlock had his jacket on and took the dog, Rosie getting excited.

"Where's papa?" Rosie asked sweetly.

"Sleeping...I...uh left him to sleep." Sherlock lied, no-one except Atlas realising he had done so. Yes, Sherlock had left him to sleep but she could see from the tiredness in her dad's eyes that it had been another hard night. 

As they neared a river Rosie and Wanda walked forward, ahead of Sherlock and Atlas. Sherlock had let Redbeard off the lead and he was now running with Rosie and playing in the river. 

"How often?" Atlas asked, her dad placing an arm around his shoulder. He squeezed her close. 

"Gradually getting less." Sherlock sighed, Atlas sighing aswell. "Every once in a while he has a really bad one." 

"Like last night." Atlas said under her breath and upon realisation that she'd said instantly wished she hadn't. She didnt need her dad knowing that she heard every time John screamed in a nightmare, had one he cried through. She didn't want them worrying about her, when John was fighting a huge battle.

"You know?" Sherlock asked. "Everytime?" Atlas nodded, Sherlock squeezing her shoulder in return. "He'll be alright. He's a Watson." Atlas and Sherlock shared a knowing look. "Don't worry about him."

"I'm trying to not worry about all of you." Atlas jokes, laughing a little. 

"I know." Sherlock said pulling her close. "I know."

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

"WHERE is everyone at?" John asked entering the kitchen to see Timothy and Eurus in the kitchen. He stared around some more in confusion as to where everyone was.

"Atlas, Sherlock, Wanda and Rosie took Redbeard out on a walk." Timothy explained creating some tea, of which he gave a mug off to John.

"That's good. Rosie will need some air." John laughed.

"Not just Rosie. Sherlock and Atlas too." Timothy and John exchanged a laugh. Getting outside was always good for their minds. John found them much more occupied this way. As if their minds were less prone to overthinking and more instinctive.

By the time they got back Rosie had been given a piggy back back to the house. When inside she ran up the stairs to get dressed, finding her Pa to have already laid out clothes for her.

"Good walk?" John asked Sherlock ad he took a seat in an armchair near John. Atlas collected her book and sat down in an armchair aswell. 

"Different book genre to normal?" Timothy said sitting on the sofa near Atlas. She looked up momentarily and nodded.

"Felt like exploring the American civil war." Atlas explained, laughing slightly as she looked at him. 

"Scarlett O'Hara." Timothy sighed, causing Atlas to look at him surprised.

"You know it?" 

"Of course he knows it. There's few books he hasn't read." Wanda laughed bringing Sherlock some tea. Atlas gave a little laugh, smiling as she went back to her book. Then Rosie began coming down the stairs with a book clutched in one hand and Jeff in the other. Eventually when she reached the floor of cottage she quickly sped over to Sherlock and jumped up onto his lap. 

"What book is it today?" Sherlock asked taking it from her and lifting her up onto his lap. "Ahhh...Alice in Wonderland."

Rosie settled back in his lap as he began reading, the young girl clutching the dinosaur to her chest. 

Mycroft finally appeared from his room and Eurus from outside with Red. She'd been playing fetch with him and had now taken him inside. Everyone was quiet.

"Right." Wanda said after some time. "Tonight Rosie, Atlas, Eurus and I are cooking, and tommorow night the men cook." Wanda looked around at the faces she had called to attention. "Deal?"

 _Yes. Deal. Yeah._ And a _nope_ from Mycroft. However, Atlas elbowed him causing him to yelp and change his response.

"We'll go shop for what we need this afternoon." Wanda explained, Rosie bouncing excitedly in Sherlock's lap.

"For bonding." Wanda added and just about everyone sighed except for John.

"I think it's a wonderful idea Wanda." John praised smiling at the woman who nodded at him.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

"LET'S go buy our ingredients." Wanda said taking Rosie's hand as she skipped to catch them up at the door.

"Have fun." Mycroft drawled as Eurus shot him a look that told him to shut the hell up. Mycroft sighed and rubbed his forehead before looking up to see his brother sat with his head on the armchair arm. It looked as if he was giving puppy dog eyes to John who sighed and put down his book and looked at Sherlock.

"Don't look at me like that." John said to Sherlock who continued to look at him.

"Like what?" Sherlock asked shooting back in his seat pretending to be offended. 

"Like...well that." John said pointedly when Sherlock smiled and went back to what he was doing. His eyes looking at John pleadingly.

"Fine. What do you want?" John asked Sherlock who smiled at him.

"Walk Redbeard with me." Sherlock smiled. The dog didn't normally require a walk twice a day, but already Sherlock was growing tired of Mycroft's pointless, endless wittering. 

"Alright." John smiled at him. He folded up his book and the two men left together.

John didn't have to ask he just knew that Sherlock wished to be in his company for a while. He sometimes got like that, all sentimental with his family members. To begin with it freaked John out, but it didn't anymore.

"Atlas knows." Sherlock said sincerely as they headed under the trees. Letting the dog off the lead to go off and run around.

"Atlas always knows." John laughed, before frowning when he saw his partners face. It was sincere and quiet.

"She knows about the nightmares. She worries about you." Sherlock said, taking John's hand into his own. "And me. God, I wish she wouldn't." After some time they past through more trees and approached the lake, smiling as the dog ran into it and brought a stick to be thrown. They played fetch a while before sitting on a log.

"Do you... Would you... I don't suppose?" Sherlock began. "You'd I don't know... marry me?" He was nervous, his head hung, hands clammy and lingering in his lap. John laughed before realising he had just hurt his partners feelings.

"Wait...your serious?" John asked, sounding in disbelief. Sherlock looked even more upset that time around.

"Sorry." Sherlock whispered under his breath. "I'm sorry. It's maybe too soon, I just thought because we've known each other so long." Sherlock got to his feet and anxiously paced across the loose pebbles. "I really, really didn't mean to overstep the...the boundary." 

"Sherlock." John tried but Sherlock continued to ramble.

"I just, sorry. Oh shit. What have I done? I'm not good with all this. What happened the first time? No, Sherlock, don't think about the first time Mary-Anne was a psychopath." He said, pacing the pebbles, his eyes cloudy as he trudged anxiously.

"Sherlock." John tried yet again but Sherlock continued to helplessly trek the ground.

"It's alright. I'm probably hard to love. I'm a freak anyway. But the first time I had sex was with him. Why is this so hard? Pathetic. No, go away. Freak. No, go away. Smart arse. Go away. Shut up, shut up, shut up. It was too soon. What have I done?" Sherlock said, becoming more distressed.

"Sherlock." John said louder this time, the younger man still muttering under his breath. His hands running nervously through his hair, pulling at them. "Sherlock." He said again, much louder this time until the dark hair faced him. Now, he assessed the thin line for a mouth, the cheeks of tears and the fear in his eyes. "Come back and sit down." 

"No." Sherlock replied quietly. "I'm really sorry." However, when John patted the empty space on the log next to him, Sherlock came down and sat next to him. His knee bouncing anxiously. 

"Look at me, Sherlock." John said, blue eyes looking up into his own. His hands held either side of the mans face. "Of course I'll bloody marry you." 

"So is that a yes or?" Sherlock asked looking at him quietly.

"Yes." John laughed kissing him. Then Sherlock looked like he was crying and John looked at him confused. 

"I never thought you'd say yes." Sherlock said quietly, a lump of happiness catching in his throat. John rested his forehead against Sherlock as Redbeard came to lie by their feet. 

"After Mary...I never thought you'd say yes to another person." Sherlock explained, John sighing. 

"I would've always said yes to you." John smiled his eyes sparkling the way they always did around Sherlock.

"I'm sorry. I didn't...I dont have a ring." Sherlock laughed stupidly, John laughing too. 

"If anything I'm grateful. When we do get married. A wedding band will be enough." John stated looking at Sherlock, who smiled knowingly in return.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

ONCE Sherlock and John had left the house, Timothy let out a sigh and got up and moved into the kitchen. There Mycroft followed him into the kitchen.

"Those two are good together." Timothy remarked standing at the sink washing his mug.

"Mmm." Mycroft hummed as he sat himself at the small two person table. They would eat their meal at the big table situated into the conservatory later.

"What? You don't agree?" Timothy somewhat scolded, looking over at his eldest child who was sat rubbing his forehead again. 

"I do." Mycroft said quietly. "My brother is finally happy, not high and not chasing every single case down for an adrenaline rush. He finally has all he really needs." Mycroft appeared to let a flicker of a smile cross across his face.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

ROSIE pulled a stool up to stand on as she stirred a pan of tomato sauce. Meanwhile, Eurus and Atlas created a biscoff cheesecake over by the two person table. Wanda told Rosie to carefully pour the tomato puree into the pan and she giggled when it splashed her apron.

"I'm impressed." Atlas said to Eurus. "Dad said you had a smart mind, but your not doing exact measurements like Mycroft will."

"Hold on. You've baked with Mycroft?" Eurus somewhat sniggered. Now Atlas could get a proper look at Eurus she saw how her eyes looked distant. How her thoughts didnt always seem to match up, but sometimes she would makes sense. Yet, Atlas had noticed how certain things changed her distant behaviour, cooking, dogs, violin, children but most of all family. 

"Where do you think those cookies came from at Christmas?" Atlas asked laughing, seeing that Eurus seemed to be smiling in return. They were nearly finished and it would very nearly be ready to enter the fridge and sit there a while. 

"How's it all -" John began but he stopped talking when Rosie interrupted.

"Papa!" Rosie screeched, carefully making her way off the stool. "Your not allowed to be in here." She took his mug off him. "Out." She warned, her eyes narrowing. Then she playfully pushed him out causing him to laugh at how serious she was.

"That's the most I've seen her speak in a while." John said as he exited the kitchen, Atlas saying the same thing inside the kitchen.

"More than normal?" Sherlock asked John sat in the armchair next to his. Then John sat reciting what his youngest daughter had said to him and counting it on his fingers. 

"Eight." John said excitedly. "That's the most she's said that isn't a quote from a book or a fact. It's her minds independent thought." John smiled as his partner, who smiled in return. Sherlock looked mildly excited by this fact, only for his face to fall humorously again. John didn't notice, intact no-one did, but the fact was that while yes eight words was a lot, she'd said it in a room full of people she could trust. And no doubt she would say more in time. What worried Sherlock most was that she wouldn't speak in public. She still after two years of being able to speak infront of John and Sherlock, she was still timid. She was late to develop some form of noise that mildly resembles speech at two and both he and John knew this. Rosie wasn't simply shy, she was anxious to speak infront of people. Sherlock still couldn't get his head around the thought of her having anxiety at four. Still a young and tender age, yet what could he do. Her birthday was in two days, so on Wednesday. Maybe she would speak more then.


	30. Nightmares and Scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nightmares again.

ROSIE'S face smiled in delight as she looked at what she and the other female family members had made. She was excited, in a way no-one had quite seen before. 

"Well done chef Rosie." Wanda applauded, the rest of them smiling and laughing with her. Then unexpectedly the young girl reached up to give a hug to Wanda, who took it. Then they all took the plates with the dish on, Rosie acting as a waitress. 

A chorus of thank you's echoed through the conservatory as everyone settled to eat. Pointless witter filled their ears until the first course was finished. The pudding was brought through and also devoured. After tea everyone sat down with mugs of miscellaneous flavours. Rosie clambered up onto Wanda's lap, snuggling into her as they continued Alice in Wonderland. 

Atlas went up to bed early, going to sleep once changed. She had been tired all day and so was glad of the opportunity to sleep. Rosie was still downstairs, playing with Redbeard now though until Sherlock told her it was time she went to bed.

"Will you and papa read my book tonight?" Rosie asked quietly looking up at her dad with big eyes. She used that Watson look that Sherlock was sure wouldn't grow old. 

"Fine." John said before both men got up and went up the stairs to the bedroom. Atlas was peacefully sleeping and had been for the last two hours. 

"Don't be too loud dad, papa." Rosie said quietly. "We'll wake Atlas up." Then they all sat on her bed and began the story. Sherlock doing the voice of the Caterpillar making Rosie giggle quietly, John had taken on the voice of the rabbit and was now completing one of the lines. Sherlock was holding Jeff and was pretending that he was playing another character sending Rosie into another fit of quiet laughter. 

On the other bed however, Atlas' nightmare was only just beginning. 

_Atlas was looking into the eyes of Mr Peterson. Over in the corner his wife stood looking on with disapproval at Atlas. She bit back at the tears swelling in her throat as she looked up at him. Tears swelled inside her eyes as she looked at him, trying to restrict the tears that were threatening to fall. She couldn't let the weakness out._

_"Why?" Atlas whispered quietly, knees pulled up to her chest._

Sherlock looked momentarily over to his eldest daughter, sure that he had heard her say something. She was still peacefully sleeping, curled up in a ball on her side.

_The angry Mr Peterson drew his hand back and brought it down against her cheek. She reeled back at the pain and then fear filled her stomach. Her eyes caught sight if the glint in his pocket, recognising the shape to be a swiss knife. She shuddered, her eyes immediately moving away from what she saw._

_He went in for a punch this time and she felt her head hit the wall, her eyes filling with more tears. Then he issued a guttural punch as she drew her knees away from her chest._

Atlas moved onto her back in her sleep, it again not going unnoticed by Sherlock who looked over. 

"What's wrong dad?" Rosie asked sweetly looking up at him. 

"Uh, nothing sweetheart." Sherlock said before they continued reading. He'd missed his part of the Caterpillar and now the young girl was looking at him expectantly.

_The knife was removed from the pocket and she cried some more._

_"Please. You know you don't have to do this. I'll stop deducing. I'll stop -" Atlas was pleading but then the knife was being held to her throat. She felt as though she was choking, choking over this sharp object being pressed against her windpipe._

Sherlock's attention was fully drawn now as Atlas began speaking in her sleep. John followed Sherlock's gaze over the room.

"She's just dreaming Sherlock." John reassured as they continued their story, Sherlock still keeping half an eye.

_The man pushed her against the wall, her head hitting the cement with a thump. It was a small cit but she could feel it bleeding, the blood carrying it down the back of her neck._

_"Bitch." Mr Peterson shouted. He moved the knife to her neck again._

_"No, no, no, no." She sobbed as she tried to stop him from delivering what would be a fatal blow. "Please."_

Atlas was beginning to cry in the bed opposite them. Sherlock looked up again distracted.

"She's not dreaming," Sherlock said quietly. "She's having a nightmare." He got up from her seated position just as Atlas began to sob and writhe in the bed slightly. 

"Rosie, sweetheart, go downstairs and tell Grandma Wanda and Grandad Timothy that Atlas needs to speak to us privately and ask them to read you the rest of the story." John said to Rosie, the young girl nodding. 

"Politely." Sherlock shouted back. She nodded from the door and went downstairs. This could potentially make her scared so telling her to go somewhere else would be best.

"Atlas." Sherlock said quietly, sitting on the bed. "Atlas. Your dreaming."

The girls eyes darted open and she wriggled in her bed. She looked up at John who was saying something to her, Sherlock was too but she couldn't hear them. Her mind kept switching between reality and with her nightmare. She kept ending up in that place, the knife glinting in his hand. Slowly she put a hand to the back of her head and pulled her hand down to look at it and saw it was covered it blood. She stopped moving and just kept staring at it intently.

Meanwhile Sherlock and John were watching helplessly as she started up her no's again, panic flashing over her face. 

"Atlas." John said as he forced the girl to sit up, strong arms gripping her upper arms. "Atlas, whatever your seeing is not real. It is not happening right now." Sherlock pulled her into a tight hug as she shook, John rubbing her back comfortingly. Her efforts were worthless as she tried to escape his grasp, until she settled. She could feel the bed shift behind her as John sat down, her mind being momentarily occupied. 

When she realied where she was she looked back at John who was giving her a hug from behind and up at Sherlock who kissed her hair. She ran her fingers over a patch on her head where it had once been split open. There was no blood.

"There's...there's no blood." Atlas said very surprised as she examined her right hand. 

"Blood?" John asked looking at Atlas in the eyes as she turned. 

"There's no blood coming from my head." She said quietly under her breath. 

"Atlas. What happened to you?" Sherlock proved trying to find out what happened to the young girl.

"It was my last night in care." She whispered, John continuing to rub her back. "A week before I came here. The father in my foster home, Mr Peterson, had...had a knife. After some generalised." Atlas swallowed hard, the moments reliving befor her eyes yet again. "Abuse. He held it to my throat as a threat. Eventually, he cast it off to the side and he beat me against the wall. My head must've split or something because before long I could feel stickiness dragging down my neck." She said, silent tears falling from her eyes. She soon began to cry. Not ugly cry, but cry with grief. Grief for what she had lost because of what people did to her. Grief for the deaths she witnessed while with the Peterson's. She was a mess, a broken horrible mess. 

Sherlock held the side of her head to his chest with his hand. Rubbing her hair with his thumb as John shuffled to give her a hug aswell, wrapping an arm around the back of Sherlock and rubbing his back.

"It's alright Atlas." Sherlock whispered, his eyes flitting up to meet John's eyes. "We've got you now." Now, John kissed her hair aswell on the other side. 

"We promise... as much as is reasonable." John said, causing Atlas to laugh, tears still sitting in her eyes, before she let out another sob and whimper.

A slight knock at the door revealed a wide eyed five year old who looked relatively upset.

"Come over here Ro." John said beckoning her over, using Sherlock and Atlas' nickname for her. She ran over, Jeff in her hand as she scrambled onto John's lap. She joined the hug, smiling as she realised it might just be OK.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

Atlas and Rosie spent half the night speaking to one another, sat crossed legged on the bed. They covered philosophy, geography, politics, war and everything you can possibly think of that goes through your brain. Then they touched the topic of John's nightmare's.

"I want to see Papi and daddy." Rosie began to cry, Atlas looked at the clock and realise that it read 1 am. There was chance they will be here.

"We'll go quietly, okay?" Atlas said, warning her. "Just incase they have gone to sleep." The young girl nodded before they silently descended the stairs. Rosie knocked lightly on the door, entering when they heard a questioning hello. When the little girl went in teary eyed she ran to John and climbed onto the bed. 

"Papa." She cried, Sherlock putting his book down and shuffling over towards his partner. Atlas remained at the door before entering and sitting on the bed. She then lay her torso on John's legs, curling up slightly. 

"What's wrong Ro?" Sherlock asked, before Atlas looked at him with icy blue eyes. 

"It's my fault. I made her upset." Atlas admitted turning onto her back, looking up at the ceiling. "I'm sorry John."

"Atlas." Sherlock said sternly, the young girl looking at him sideways before returning her eyes to the ceiling. 

"I brought... She... She asked about nightmares. John's nightmares." Atlas said, a long silence lingering in the air before Atlas looked sideways at John. She couldn't say reading people's emotions was her best skill. Was anything human?

"I'm sure you answered as well as I could." John said and Atlas let out a breath she hadn't realised she had been holding. She immediately looked relieved, smiling slightly at John.

Everything would be okay.


	31. Midnight Family Talks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well if this isn't bad, I don't know what is.

"WHY do people get nightmares papa?" Rosie asked looking up at John and then expectantly at Sherlock. Both men struggled to find the right words.

"No-one knows," Atlas explained, jumping in as she saw her dad and John faltering on how to answer. "Maybe it's a coping system. When your young it's things your afraid are going to happen. When your older, it's things that have happened, or what may happen as a consequence." Atlas explained, Rosie smiling through her tear stained face at Atlas.

"What did you dream about Atlas?" Rosie asked quietly, Atlas looking at Sherlock and John for help with how to answer.

"You know how I was in care and foster homes before I came and found dad again?" Atlas asked, the young girl nodding, Jeff being pulled to her chest. "Well sometimes I got a bad one."

"A bad one?" Rosie asked quietly, still looking at Atlas.

"Yeah." She sighed before continuing. "They would...hurt me, say things to me. Sometimes I dream about them. Of course, they weren't all bad, a few were quite good like the old man who taught me to play piano or the woman who helped me learn violin. I was with the man for just over a year before he had a heart attack and died. The woman around two before she had to move away and I just couldn't go. Her money was always tight. They weren't all bad, but when I got a bad one." 

"You got a bad bad one." Rosie said quietly, nodding as she understood.

"Yeah." Atlas said quietly before lying down on Sherlock's legs and curling up. They stayed like that for a while until more of Rosie's questions arose. 

After a few more had been asked Sherlock cleared his throat. He exchanged a look with John and they agreed that this may just be the best opportunity to announce the engagement. After all, they were eager to tell Atlas and Rosie before the family. Although, just before he opened his mouth something stopped him and John swooped in and began to ask another question. He wasn't ready to tell them just yet, he was quite enjoying just him and Sherlock knowing. Yes, he felt selfish, but he just needed a few moments longer before they shared their excitement. Although, the game would be up quickly with Atlas being a permanent fixture in their lives and the ever growing in observance Rosie. 

"How are you feeling now?" John asked Atlas, observing that more time had passed. She slipped onto John's side as she felt Sherlock shuffle up behind her. John suddenly felt like the luckiest man alive as his family surrounded him. The feeling was shared by Sherlock who was having a staring contest with Atlas, until Sherlock purposefully blinked to drop the game.

"Is Billy the skull real?" Rosie asked, looking up at John with big eyes. "Is he dad?" This time she looked at Sherlock and smiled. 

"No comment." He laughed, sharing a look with Atlas who smirked. She knew fine well it was real, she just didnt know where it had come from. Rosie yawned loudly before laughing all over again. Then John lay down under the covers, Atlas and Rosie going underneath aswell. Rosie and Atlas lay facing each other, Sherlock on his side as Atlas lay on her back, Rosie of course copying. They were so close to each other that they only took up a half of the bed. Yet they weren't ready for sleep yet and they continued to speak. John was lying with Rosie like a mirror, one hand stroking through Atlas' hair. 

"It's my birthday the day after tommorow!" Rosie exclaimed sitting up and looking at her papa before looking at Atlas and her dad. She smiled before falling back against John earning an 'oof' sound. Sherlock laughed behind Atlas causing her to do the same.

"I'm really really excited." Rosie whispered, John kissing her hair as she laughed. Her eyes sparkled in the way a Watson's did and she looked at Sherlock. She hugged Atlas who hugged back, smiling into her neck. Then she pulled back as her pa continued to hug her.

"Imagine I never came back." Atlas said after some time, they were still all awake. "Imagine I stayed there." There was a thoughtful pause. "I'd probably be dead in a gutter." She laughed before her face fell when she saw John's face. It was frowning, before he stroked a rogue hair behind her ear. They eventually fell into a quiet sleep.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

"MY, they're all sleeping in late this morning." Wanda said as she bustled into the kitchen next to Timothy. They waited a moment.

"I'll go check on them." Wanda said, leaving before Timothy could stop her. She went upstairs first to see if she could find the girls, but they weren't there. Then, looking alarmed she descended the stairs and looked into John and Sherlock's room. A smile spread across her face when she saw the way they were sleeping. Timothy followed up behind her and looked in, seeing how they were sleeping. It was the same as when they were speaking, John's hand still settled in Atlas' hair. Mycroft and Eurus came up behind them to look in before Wanda swatted them away.

Timothy smiled at the couple and their children who were happy. All of them surrounded by each other, they seemed love.

"I thought he was a loss." Timothy said quietly. "I thought they all were."

"I know love." Wanda said looking back at him before looking back at John and Sherlock. 

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

"Morning." Sherlock said as he entered the kitchen at 11am, Rosie clinging to his fingers. They were both dressed, Rosie in a little dress with tights, Sherlock in only a T-Shirt with trousers. His hair was scruffy and Rosie had a hairbrush in her other hand.

"Morning." Wanda smiled as Sherlock sat yawning with Rosie and began to brush through her hair. Jeff was in her hand still and she smiled at Sherlock who smiled in return.

"Do you want to sing your hair brushing song?" Sherlock asked Rosie before they started to sing together.

_Some hair is curly and loopy  
Some hair is bright like the rainbow  
Some hair is brown or sooty  
Some hair has a natural glow_

_Some hair is red and pretty  
Some hair is messy like daddy's  
Some hair is in a bob like Atlas'  
Some hair is grey like papi's. _

"All done." Sherlock said as she turned to look at him. She gave him a hug. 

"Billy's real, isn't he?" Rosie asked looking up at him. 

"Yes. But I was gifted him." Sherlock said. "A friend donated him to me as a present. Something about me liking biology." 

"So he died?" Rosie asked quietly.

"He was ninety-four." Sherlock smiled.

"Ninety-four!" She exclaimed looking at him. Sherlock nodded making her gasp and put a hand over her mouth. "That's nearly as old as grandma!" 

"Hey." Wanda laughed Rosie giggling as she looked at her. Wanda's heart was filled with a joy she had never experienced before.

"If you and Papi get married." Rosie said quietly. "Will Jo and John Senior be invited?" She asked tentatively. 

"They are his parents." Sherlock said. "If, if we get married, we will look at it. Okay?" 

"I just don't like them." Rosie said quietly. "They don't like you and Atlas and so therefore I don't." She pouted.

"Okay." Sherlock replied stroking over her hair. Before exchanging a look with Wanda. Children had the best minds and if Rosie didnt like John's parents then that worried him. He knew his partner would want them at their wedding - John being a traditional man - but would Rosie's dislike win over?


	32. We Can Totally Cook

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the world is fluffy.

"WE can totally cook." Atlas imitated smirking as she looked at her dads. "Not like I cook most evenings."

"Shots fired." Eurus said raising her eyebrows as she continued looking down at the picture that Rosie had drawn for her. 

"Do you like it?" Rosie asked, giving the Watson eyes which weakened the knees of a Holmes.

"I do. I especially like this persons hair." She said pointing to the character and smiling. Rosie smiled back. Everyone noticed how Eurus' behaviour changed around Rosie, like she brought her back to the present instead of being distant. 

"Really?" Rosie asked. "It's Billy! He's ninety-four!" She laughed. "Well he was." Everyone laughed with her, it was quite entertaining having her around. She had a little bit of humour that came from somewhere in either the Marston or Watson gene. Sherlock couldn't tell.

Redbeard wagged his tail as Rosie sat back down next to him to draw another picture. When she finished that one she gave it to John leaning against his knee, smiling up at him.

"It's of Jeff!" She exclaimed laughing.  
"Do you like it?" She asked, John nodding and laughing. 

"I do." John said, showing it to Sherlock.

"I think it's very good." Sherlock said looking at the squiggles on the page. "He needs some eyes though." 

Her eyes went wide as she looked at it critically before she added him some eyes and claws before running back and giving it to her dad. Sherlock's engagement with Rosie was fascinating - constructive criticism in the kindest way you could think of.

"Better?" She asked looking at him. Sherlock studying it, already knowing he was going to give a nod anyways. 

"Yes. It's much better." He said before the young girl went over to Mycroft and stood looking at him.

"Myc?" She asked sweetly. "Will you read to me?" She gave him the eyes and at first when everyone thought he was going to say no he let her climb up with her book and he read it to her. He took on all the voices causing her to giggle as he read to her. They were smiling with each other.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

AT around 3:30pm the boys were doing shopping for their meal this evening. 

"Wine." Mycroft said before disappearing. 

"We do not need wine." Timothy sighed as they watched Mycroft head in the direction of the alcohol stalls. Sherlock shared a look with John, both of them sighing. Deciding that John should maybe tell Timothy that they were engaged before they announced it to their family this evening.

"For goodness sake, shopping with those two is like shopping with them when they were yay high." Timothy sighed as he watched Sherlock follow Mycroft. "They'll come back with everything we don't need." John gave a chuckle to this as they selected some ingredients that they needed.

"I..." John began, Timothy standing from his bent over position at the vegetables. "Would...yoursonhasaskedmetomarryhimandIhavesaidyes." The words game out fast in a garbled, confusing mess.Timothy's eyes going wide as he realised what he had said. Timothy looked away for a moment before looking back at John as worry painted his face.

"Are you sure? 'Cause Sherlock, he's not an easy man to love. And I would hate for his ways to get in the -" Timothy began but John cut in.

"Of course I'm sure. I know what I'm getting into, but...I know I love him. And I hope to god he loves me otherwise it could make an incredibly awkward marriage." John joked before his smile faded and Timothy looked at him.

"He's always loved you." Timothy said. "From the moment he met you, he loved you." John's jaw went slack, but closed when he saw the brother's jostling their way down the main aisle.

"We haven't told anyone else so-" John said but Timothy just tapped his nose in confirmation as the other two men came back. Sherlock had managed to prize an expensive bottle of wine out of Mycroft's hands and replace it with a less expensive kind. When they got back they were still arguing but a pointed look from Timothy shut them up.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

THAT evening they sat enjoying the meal that the men had made. 

"It's really good guys." Atlas said looking around them all smiling ear to ear. 

After the meal they sat down round a coffee table in the living area to play a quiz board game. Atlas had pre arranged names in a hat, whoever's name was drawn that was who was their partner. 

"Rosie." Eurus said drawing Rosie's name from a hat, the little girl squealing in excitement. She made her way to Eurus before jumping onto her lap, the dog gathering at their feet supposedly joining their team.

"Mycroft." Sherlock sighed as he drew his brother's name out the hat. Mycroft looked grumpy as his younger brother sat down beside him.

"John." Atlas said jumping up excitedly and sitting on the floor next to John's feet. She smiled up at him, as he put a hand on her hair, this would be a good partnership. 

"That means you and me Wanda." Timothy smiled as he placed a hand on his wife's leg and smiled at her. 

The game began but not after much bickering over colours and over teams - that was mainly Sherlock and Mycroft who were less that pleased with who they had been placed with. 

The game went rather smoothly, Eurus and Rosie taking an early lead due to Rosie's strange geographical knowledge. John and Atlas were close behind, Wanda and Timothy, then at the back was Mycroft and Sherlock - purely because they couldn't agree on an answer.

In the end a very happy Rosie and Eurus won making the young girl squeal in excitement and painting many faces in the room. As normal, she clambered onto the lap of Sherlock who was sat on the sofa next to John. Atlas jumping in next to Sherlock on the strangely large piece of furniture. The four of them somewhat huddled together in what Rosie had now called their 'Birthday Eve Tradition' because they did it on the eve of everyone's birthday. 

"A new tradition?" Mycroft asked when he saw them all sat with each other. Atlas was reading a book whilst Sherlock and John kept an excitable Rosie occupied with various photos.

"Yes. On the eve of one of our birthdays we sit together to...well..." John said as Atlas leaned against Sherlock's shoulder, looking at the photo he had just tried to show her. "Talk, mostly."

"My little brother, talking about his feelings and family?" Mycroft asked as Eurus hit him playfully and he looked at her. 

"When it's not to you, yes." Sherlock replied as he gave him a glare, Rosie placing Jeff on his head amongst his curls.

"Does Jeff like it up there?" Sherlock asked as Rosie nodded giggling as she buried herself in his chest, Jeff eventually falling off his head.

"Time for bed Rosie." John said to Rosie as she looked at him after giving a big yawn. 

"Do you want me or dad to take you?" John asked her but she only buried further into Sherlock. "Looks like you have been nominated." John said smiling at his partner who lifted Rosie up and took her to bed, Jeff still clutched tightly in her hand. Atlas took the moment and put her book down and cuddled into John. 

"You good there Atlas?" John asked as she looked up at him with blue eyes. She nodded before swinging the blanket off her because she was too warm. Nevertheless, she snuggled into one of her father figures all the more, hugging his middle somewhat awkwardly. He stroked her hair gently as Sherlock disappeared into the bedroom, giggles elevating from Rosie.

"I love you John." Atlas said quietly into John's shoulder, snuggling in increasingly closer. It was just inaudible to the remaining family in the room.

"I love you too Atlas." John said into her hair, planting a kiss on it and resting his chin atop her head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short but sweet I think.


	33. Rosie's Birthday (Finally)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is so bad. And the endings of my chapters are worse but considering I'm publishing this book all in one go, I personally didn't feel like it would matter too much.

ROSIE woke up with a start, before looking around confused. Why was she up so early? She glanced at the clock which was analog and tried to read it - she did so effortlessly and realised it was around five am. 

"Your up." Atlas stated, exiting her mind palace. She had told her body clock to wake her up early enough so that she was awake when Rosie woke up. Rosie looked at her funny before grabbing Jeff and jumping up onto the bed. 

"Are you excited?" Atlas asked Rosie, her hands being placed either side her face. 

"Yes. Will you help me get dressed?" Rosie asked sweetly. 

"In an hour. First of all, we read a book and wait a while." Atlas said as the young girl clambered into her lap.

"Instead of read a book." Rosie said quietly. "Will you tell me a story? About my mummy?" Her eyes went wide, giving the Watson look.

"I don't know much about your mum." Atlas said quietly looking at the younger girl. She was lying, of course she knew, she'd never been told but she'd observed things. Ex-intellignece officer judging by the skills she produced, sharp shooter judging by Sherlock's gun wound. It was then, that she realised John and Sherlock were going to have a hell of a time telling her all this. _Let alone everything else._

"Your lying." Rosie said quietly. "Please?"

"No. It's not my story to tell. It's papa's and dad's." Atlas said quietly looking at the girl who now looked somewhat upset. Tears formed in the younger girls eyes, then suddenly dissipated. Her eyes going wide in excitement yet again.

"Can we walk Redbeard?" She asked excitedly looking over at the window.

"Uhh...yes...I suppose." Atlas said looking at her. 

"Will we see the sunrise?" The little girl asked quietly, Atlas nodding in response. If they left now, they could be looking out across some islands in time for the sun to rise. Atlas helped her dress in a short dungarees with a pair of tights, before putting a jumper on top of the T-shirt she had insisted on wearing. Atlas chucked on a pair of random trousers and a T-Shirt and cardigan. She would wear a jacket when they got downstairs.

Quickly, Atlas fed Redbeard whilst Rosie put her jacket and wellies on, collecting the dog lead incase they would need it. Atlas put a pair of trainers on and a warm jacket too and they headed out. Yes, it was early - Atlas had been sure to leave a note for the adults so they wouldn't freak - but it would prevent Rosie from waking her parents up. She had her phone in her pocket to take photos as she and Rosie began their walk. 

"I'm excited to start school." Rosie said as she held Atlas' hand. They had let the dog off the lead a few moments earlier. Redbeard was very well behaved like that; staying close and not moving too far away from them; good when Rosie held his lead - although everyone was pretty sure Red's favourite person was the four-now-five year old. Or five by midnight.

"That's good." Atlas said to Rosie who was clinging onto her hand tightly. She began to swing it as they walked along.

"At?" Rosie asked, adopting a new nickname. 

"Yeah Ro?" Atlas asked the younger girl who looked up at her. They were nearing the main path now where Rosie started spotting ladybugs and butterflies on the just lit footpath.

"Just wondered if you liked the nickname." She smiled as she crouched to look at a bug. The dog's head reared in interest and he came trotting over to her. Atlas had to hold him back from eating the ladybug that Rosie was looking at. Swiftly, Atlas threw a stick for him to chase so that she could take a swift photo of Rosie squatting down at a bug. She got a total of nine that she placed in the folder she had named 'Rosie'. 

"I do." Atlas said as they continued onwards. The walk was about four miles in total but Atlas wasn't going to tell her that. The rest of the walk to the cliffs was filled with stopping to look at bugs and asking lots of questions. 

Eventually, they reached the cliffs just as the sun was beginning to rear it's head. There was a bench and both of them took it, the dog coming over and sitting by their feet. Atlas took photo's as the sun continued rising then took one of Rosie and Redbeard sitting on the bench. She put it as her wallpaper on her lock screen, it now taking place as one of her favourite photos. 

With the sun came warmth which Redbeard seemed to wallow in. An unseasonably hot day was due and Atlas knew that Rosie would insist they play in the river outside. To any normal person she would say no, but Rosie wasn't a normal person, Rosie was a Watson. And besides, Atlas couldn't say no to the sweet smile and astonishingly blue eyes that lit up the room.

"Atlas?" Rosie asked beside her, the older girl casting her gaze down. Rosie's hair shone like gold under the new sun, similar to that of her fathers. Mary had been blonde, although the photos suggested this was not her natural colour. Rosie's most likely hair colour was a very light brown, that verges on blonde depending on the light, time of year and weather. This was like Atlas' and Sherlock's eyes, changing colour when they saw fit. Some days they were as blue as the sky, other days they looked a greeny blue like some form of Caribbean seaweed. Now, however they were a peaceful blue, not a storm or cold like ice. She didn't have to be neutral or a Robot around Rosie, around any of the people there with them at the lodge - or Molly, Lestrade or Martha.

Eventually, once the sun had fully risen, Atlas glanced at her watch. The time read around 7.30am. That's good. Atlas thought to herself. I've occupied her.

They turned and left the views of the cliffs behind, but not after Atlas collected some much needed photos of the spectacular views. The walk back was slow as Rosie saw more and more bugs and beetles of interest, trying to name each one and giving them made up ones if she couldn't remember.

"And what's this?" Atlas asked her as they stood watching a bumblebee land on a flower.

"A bumblybee." Rosie exclaimed, excited by the little bug. Bee's were her favourite animal and always had been - thought everyone was certain that if dinosaurs hadn't gone extinct, a dinosaur would have been the favourite. 

"Yeah. A bumblybee." Atlas said as they continued on their path, trudging along the fully lit path. There was no point correcting her, especially because her nose scrunched up when she said it. This would cause the average human heart to speed up a little too much, words failing. Atlas took loads more photos of the dog and Rosie as they played together along the path. 

Then eventually Rosie's legs tired and she began to lag behind. 

"Atlas!" Rosie said as she fell over, scratching her hand. She looked at the older girl who paused and thought about what she should do next. Her instincts however were overpowering and she made her way over to where the girl was on her knees beginning to cry.

"Hey Ro." Atlas said taking her hands into her own. "It's alright." Atlas brandished a tissue and dipped down into the freshwater stream that was running adjacent to the path. "This is going to hurt." Atlas said as she carefully swiped at the dirt with the wet tissue. Not the most hygienic but better than nothing, and besides she was pretty certain this water had just run down the hillside and was headed for the sea. Rosie's eyes squeezed tight shut in pain as she held Jeff tightly in her hand. "There we go. Will you be alright till we get back to the lodge?" Atlas asked kindly as the little girl nodded before looking at her leg which had begun to sting. Then she cried again as she fell onto her bottom, her legs straightening before her. One of her knees had begun to bleed from a section where her knee had been skinned. Redbeard however, had noticed the commotion, and came over. Gently he licked at her hands making her giggle and feel a little better. 

"I'm really sorry Ro." Atlas said looking into her eyes.

"I had fun!" She exclaimed laughing some more as she got up off the ground and Atlas brushed her down. Eventually she lifted her up and agreed on a piggyback, back to the lodge. Redbeard was put on a lead and Rosie held onto it as they walked back. When they got back it was 8:20am and Atlas put Rosie down.

"Dad and John are probably going to be mad at me for taking you out." Atlas said squatting before her. "Especially because you got hurt." No less, on your birthday. She wanted to add but she regressed from doing so. Rosie just cocked her head to one side before taking her wellies off and wondering into the house. Atlas took one deep breath before entering. She heard Sherlock practicing over near the window as she took her wellies off. Slowly she entered as she heard the conversations in the conservatory off to the side. She could face it or just go to the violin and play. She chose the latter.

"Opus.3. No.45." Sherlock said as Atlas took up her violin and played along with him. Some of it she made up into a duet and other parts she just played other things. She didn't need to know the tune or the composer or whether it was a symphony or not, she would always know this song. The one he played before she was put into care. Slowly, they started another piece however Atlas stopped and looked at Sherlock.

"Can - Can we do the Pachebells Canon duet?" Atlas asked looking at Sherlock. He was conflicted, go see Rosie on her birthday or stay because something was going on with Atlas and he wanted to know what. He shouldn't have taught her to hide emotion so well - not that he would be able to read it.

They began the piece of music, John coming through when he heard it. Rosie followed behind him before she hugged Atlas' legs and swayed around below her. The rest of the family came through and listened too. Surprised when Eurus picked up the violin she had brought and turned the duet into a trio. They all looked at each other as they played through the melody. When they finished, there was a round of applause before the crowd of family dispersed except for the four of them.

"Rosie. You haven't changed your tights yet." Atlas noted as she took her violin from her chin and held it alongside the bow.

"I liked your playing more." She said smiling up at her. "It was pretty wasn't it?" She asked looking at Atlas before looking out the window. Sherlock and John exchanged a confused look as they went on.

"I thought it was." Atlas smiled as she looked out the window too, imagining she was back on the coast again.

"And the bumblybee." Rosie said quietly.

"And the bumblybee." Atlas stated as she smiled down at her. Sherlock had put his violin down and squatted down. 

"Happy Birthday my dear Watson." Sherlock said as she let go of Atlas' legs and went into his embrace. Giggling as he lifted her up and she rested her head on his shoulder. John hugged Atlas into his side as she wrapped an arm around Sherlock's side. As they were stood in the window they appeared like silhouettes to the rest of the family who took photos. It was rather endearing. 

"What happened to your hands?" Sherlock asked looking at Rosie's hands, and feeling her knee. "And your knee."

"I fell over, but Atlas sorted it." She laughed as Sherlock laughed too. Atlas let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding in.

"Your not mad, are you?" Atlas asked looking at her parents. Sherlock presenting a confused face, whereas John shook his head looking at her. Then when he saw that her face was still fallen, his smile that had painted his face now disappearing.

"Mad?" John asked blinking at her. "Me and your dad." John said sharing a look with Sherlock who put a hand on her back. "We won't ever be mad at you. The worst we will ever be is disappointed." Atlas looked at him. "And I'm glad you took Rosie out, you know what she was like at Christmas."

"Yeah?" She asked looking at Sherlock now.

"Yeah." Sherlock confirmed. "Little kids fall over. Adults fall over, it happens." Atlas looked at him relieved. 

John rubbed her shoulder comfortingly, Sherlock reciprocating the movement on her back. Everyone knew what she was going to say, so she didn't continue, all of them smiling.

"Right Ro." Sherlock said as he held her and smiled his goofy smile. "Let's go change your tights, shall we?" Rosie nodded as Sherlock took her upstairs.

"You guys are like...the best." Atlas laughed as she looked at John. "I thought I was going to turn up and be turned away right there before I could cross the threshold." John sighed before they exchanged a proper hug. His grey hair was combed and gelled the way he liked it - or rather the way everyone else liked it.

Meanwhile, Rosie was sitting on the bed as Sherlock cleaned her knee. As expected, it looked worse than it actually was and it was easy to clean. Sherlock then proceeded to get a pair of purple tights and help her into them.

"Dad?" Rosie asked looking at him with serious blue eyes. He looked at her and nodded for her to continue. "Why did At think you would be mad at her?" 

"Do you remember how she said she used to end up in bad places?" Sherlock asked kindly, looking at the girl who nodded. "Some of them may ave done something to her in a situation like this. That's all."

"Okay." Rosie said as she put one leg into the tights.   
"Dad?" She asked again, looking at him somewhat seriously.

"Why do I have to be Watson?" She looked at him curiously, her head turning to the side.

"Because that's your father's last name." Sherlock said as she wriggled a foot into the other leg, a hand resting on Sherlock's shoulder for support.

"But you're my dad too." She said quietly. "I want to be a Holmes." 

"You already are." Sherlock reassured. "In here." He said resting the tip of his index finger on her forehead. "And in here." He said pointing to her chest. "Although not quite as cold and a lot more Watson."

"Okay." She said quietly, lurching forward into Sherlock's embrace. "The Holmes aren't cold." The little girl stated quietly as she hung her arms around his neck. 

Sherlock began running an inner monologue:  
 _We're not cold to the people we love. We're not as cold to those we like. But we are still cold. Ice in our veins and in our hearts. However, deep down I like to think we're a little bit human, and that the ice is making way for fire when the time is right._

"Shall we go eat breakfast and then you can open your presents?" Sherlock asked her, before she nodded clinging onto his hand as they went downstairs. The smiley girl headed into the kitchen where Wanda was making pancakes for breakfast at the hob. 

"Grandad Timothy!" She shrieked as she entered and ran towards the man who was sat by the table writing something in a notebook, which he handed to Atlas. She studied it and nodded before she added to it some more. John peered over her shoulder and frowned at the mess of scribbles being poured onto the page. 

"What are you two doing?" John asked as he looked over her shoulder, his face becoming more curious and confused in the way only his can.

"Planning." Atlas said. "However, I was thinking I might put it onto OneNote to make it easier to read." She smiled at him before shoving the notebook back over to Timothy. Sherlock looked over fondly as Rosie watched his father draw a symbol and push the book back over to Atlas who nodded. He then stood next to his mother and smiled at her. 

"What?" Wanda asked looking at her son pointedly. "William Sherlock Scott Holmes you are normally up to something when you smile like that." Sherlock looked at her funny before helping make more mix - under supervision of course. He angled the bowl at her and she nodded as he stopped mixing and placed the bowl near. Mycroft walked in after, some time later, Eurus staying outside to continue drawing the river. She'd started it the day before and she was singing softly to herself in all her insanity. 

"Mummy loves me best." Sherlock said quietly to him at one side, Mycroft giving him a look. Wanda rolling her eyes as she looked between them. What were her two boys like sometimes? Secretly she loved them all in their own unique way.

_Eurus was troubled, yet content._

_Mycroft was a snob, yet understanding._

_Sherlock was ignorant, yet selfless._

_Her children were growing up, and she smiled._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeep. Well.


	34. Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welp.

The presents had been opened amongst laughter and celebration, hugs given to every family member sat in the living area. At the end Rosie lay on the floor, her head resting against Redbeard's body as she tapped out a beat on the floor.

"Do you want a barbeque tonight?" Wanda asked as Rosie sat up and nodded before making her way towards her.

"Will you put my hair up?" She asked quietly before she presented a hairbrush and hair bobbles. Then she looked at Sherlock who was sitting looking at a piece of sheet music with Atlas and Eurus as they figured out some harmonies - it was sometimes easier to sit and stop and think than to jump right to it. "Daddy." Rosie said. "Will you watch so you know how to do it?"

"I do know how to do it." Sherlock remarked as Rosie shook her head and sighing he got up and took a seat next to Wanda and watched.

"Two?" Wanda asked and Rosie nodded as the much older woman began to show her son how to do it. She carefully looped strands over one another. Once she had finished one side, Sherlock continued to do the other side. He pulled a little too hard and Rosie yelped.

"Too hard?" He asked her and she nodded and looked at him before he continued.

"Dad." Rosie said to him, some time later, looking back as he tried to finish off the tail. 

"Was it too tight?" Sherlock asked bewildered, looking like a deer in headlights as he looked at her concerned.

"No." Rosie said looking at him, her eyes shining and smiling. "Thank you." Then she turned and hugged him, Sherlock patting her back gently. Then she jumped off his lap and disappeared most likely to collect a book. 

"Dad?" Atlas asked, approaching her father from behind. "Will you come with me to walk the dog?" Sherlock looked behind him at his daughter walked towards him. Her eyes were soft - as normal, he had noted, around family. 

"Yeah. Sure." Sherlock said as he rose from his seat and put his jacket on. Atlas doing similar as they took the dog out with them. 

"Where do you want to head?" He asked looking over at her. "The coast or the hill?" She looked at him before proceeding to make her way over to a map and analyse it carefully.

"The coast. There's a path here that we might see dolphins or seals along." She said as she looked at her father then down at Redbeard. They began to walk on the beach section of the path.

"I'm afraid you'll have to tell me." Sherlock said after some time of trying to figure out why his eldest child wanted to walk with him. 

"A multitude of things." Atlas said as she walked along some stones. "I needed to clear my head and your the only person who will get me when my venting goes on a tangent." Sherlock gave a smirk which unsurprisingly Atlas reciprocated as she watched the dog wade into a rock pool. "There's obviously more but I'll get to that." Sherlock put an arm around her shoulder as they made their way up onto the path and continued along. He squeezed it and she looked at him smiling.

"You and John are engaged aren't you?" Atlas asked as she looked up at her dad, her eyes lighting up when he smirked. She hugged his side excitedly before she pulled away as they continued under a patch of trees. "What was mum like? You know, before she..." Atlas paused. "Yeah." There was a long pause, Atlas unsure if she had pushed any unnecessary buttons.

"She was kind. Although, she was a little lost to start with." He began looking over at Atlas, who gave him a nod to continue. "She was funny." Sherlock said looking down at the ground. "But she was never...right." The term was not what he wanted to use but he knew that Atlas would understand. Mary-Anne had never had a sound mind and Sherlock wasn't about to keep that from her. 

"You are like her, just barring the...well you know..." Sherlock said, his words catching in his throat as he looked down at his daughter. 

"I know." Atlas replied as they turned over a bridge, now starting to reach the views over the sea. She looked at her dad curiously as he smiled at her. Before Atlas could formulate another question, Sherlock and her took a stop at a bench and looked out across the sea. They had not yet reached the furthest and final destination, but the view was spectacular at this point. They would sit here a while and then maybe continue on further.

"I thought about you a lot." Sherlock said, his elbows resting on his thighs as he looked out across the sea. "I wondered everyday when I first got up. I suppose that's part of the reason my drug use spiked, why I needed cases." He began to say something else again but forced himself to stop himself. "Anyway, it was you who wanted to speak with me."

"It's fine, dad. Don't worry about not being there, please. I get it." Atlas said looking at him, before nodding in confirmation. "In all honesty, I just wanted to be with you." He looked at her kindly, as she smiled. "Although..." She began but slowly began to stop herself, he looked at her, his eyebrows furrowing further.

"Atlas." He said sternly, wishing her to just spit out whatever he was talking about.

"I don't want to go to school." Atlas said quietly, looking at her father who - for some reason - smiled at her. She took a deep breath, anticipating her father to say something she would rather not hear. He took a hand out his pocket and put it on her shoulder comfortingly. "I...There's something there, in the pit of my stomach. It makes me want to throw up or just run and run and run but I can't because it'll just get worse. It's getting worse dad, and I don't know how to stop it." 

"It's alright, I figured you'd say that." Sherlock said as he gave a small chuckle, Atlas looking at him confused. "I'm just warming John up to the idea of you not going." He said. "I mean, by law you don't have to anyway." Atlas nodded, before giving a little smile.

"Why does Rosie call you dad? And John papa?" Atlas asked absent mindedly as they continued to walk. 

"She's always called John papa." Sherlock said, looking over the water just off the coast. "I think it was Martha's doing probably, as well as Molly's." Atlas smirked before looking at Sherlock. They has spotted dolphins not a moment later and they watched as they dipped beneath the waves and came back up - jumping as they went.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

"SEE here, we flip it over because it's the right colour on ones side." Timothy said as he ungracefully flipped a sausage as Rosie - standing at a safe distance - watched intently. Atlas was sat crossed legged on the grass, reading a book as always predicted. Directly behind her, Wanda was attempting to platt her unruly short curls. Sherlock and John were sat at the picnic bench in conversation with Wanda (as she platted).

"Your hair's much thicker than I thought it was." Wanda remarked as she platted her eldest granchild's hair. "It's so like Sherlock's." She reminisced of the easy days with the three of them. Remembered the pirates, the swords, the beaches by the old house. Before everything turned to dust and ashes and it was simple. However, she took a step back and looked around the patio. Where the stone met the grass, Eurus was sat with a tray of assorted coloured pencils, still humming peacefully - the dog dozing sleepily beside her. Mycroft was sat in the sun with a book, squinting at the pages beneath his fingers. Through it all, she still had a family. A _brilliant_ family.

They are their fill in food created mainly by Timothy before sitting outside with a campfire. They were huddled in jackets awaiting the spectacular night sky. Camping benches and seats had been pulled out of the store cupboard that they had been informed about - they were welcome to use the equipment for things such as this - and each person sat around the campfire. However, at the present moment Rosie had gone inside with John to put on her fluffy onesie for a little bit more warmth - she had received said onesie from Mrs Hudson a few days earlier as part of her birthday gift, the other item being a dog collar for Redbeard that also came with a matching bracelet.

When she reappeared she climbed into Sherlock's lap, and watched the night sky as it illuminated with freckles of light. Everyone watched the sky before conversations were struck up as alcohol was retrieved from the house. Sherlock however didn't drink, wanting to keep Rosie secure in his lap. As children often did, she wasn't fond of the smell of alcohol in any form.

"Look Jeff!" Rosie exclaimed to her toy as she witnessed a shooting star.

"We're in peak meteor shower time." Sherlock added as he looked up to see one as well and soon enough everyone had spotted at least one shooting star whizzing across the galaxy of the milky way. 

"While we're all sat here." John said, catching everyone's attention, he looked at Sherlock who nodded. "We have something we would like to tell you all." Everyone waited for what he was going to say. "Me and Sherlock are engaged."  
There was silence, no applause as each individual looked at another, before coming to their own conclusion. 

"Yeah. That's nothing new to any of us." Atlas fessed up as she caught the laughter in her other family members eyes. "I'm just gonna say this now, I guessed, asked dad and got it right."

"Atlas told me." Rosie fessed as she looked back up at the sky, before Sherlock shot Atlas a look.

"What? I had to be excited with someone." Atlas confessed, smirking as John squeezed her shoulder smiling. 

"You tried to seriously tried to keep it a secret from Mycroft and Eurus?" Wanda laughed before she looked over at Timothy smiling.

"How did you know mother?" Sherlock asked, smiling before she looked at his father. The face that Timothy made next was one that Sherlock often perfectly replicated and the family laughed. And just as it began to die down, the dog let out a loud drawn out snore that caused yet another bout to roar.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

JOHN read his book, propped up against the headboard whilst Sherlock was brushing his teeth in the en suite. A normal state of affairs on an evening, unusual on a late one, but an evening none the less. A bog-eyed Sherlock retreated from the bathroom and climbed under the covers next to John. Surprisingly, instead of just grunting and going to sleep he scooted over to John and rested his head lightly against his shoulder.

"Are you okay?" John asked quietly, Sherlock sitting up abruptly to offer him a look before leaning against him again.

"Yes, I'm fine." Sherlock quipped, a hint of laughter coming through in his voice as he settled against John who continued to read his book. However, he soon stopped and closed the cover.

"Alright. What's up?" John asked looking at Sherlock seriously with the I-Am-A-Watson-Who-Is-Also-Your-Fiance-So-I-Know-You-Can't-Lie-To-Me-So-Just-Tell-Me-Already look.

"I just..." Sherlock began. "I love you." He needed to get that off his chest.

"What have you done?" John said sighing as he looked directly at Sherlock.

"You have so little faith in me, John Watson." Sherlock laughed before John added.

"John Watson-Holmes." 

Sherlock looked at him wide eyed, realisation flickering across his face. 

"If it's all the same to you, Watson-Holmes is better than Holmes-Watson." John said looking at Sherlock who still looked wide eyed, before he nodded and kissed John lightly. 

"Okay, I may have done something." Sherlock admitted, looking at his partner in crime softly. John looked at him expectantly, awaiting explanation. "Like, tell Atlas that I would talk to you about schooling." John sighed slowly before looking over to Sherlock. 

"How bad is it?" John asked quietly, not looking up to meet Sherlock's eyes. He's known for years about the thread of mental health issues amongst the Holmes family. "The anxiety."

"I can only remember it a little from when she was younger..but it hadn't, hadn't really y'know manifested." Sherlock explained, looking straight ahead of him. "I think it's there, waiting to pounce. I think it has, sometimes pounced. And I think she is scared to death of going into a school full of people who aren't going to understand her or want to understand her." John didn't speak, only listened to what he was saying. 

"Fine." John said. "But we have to find a way to help her make friends." Sherlock nodded in appreciation to what he had said before resting back against his shoulder. Sherlock sighed before wrapping an arm around John's torso and hugging him, creating another level of surprise. Of course they'd hugged before, but it was hardly ever Sherlock who initiated it. It was more common for the younger man to hug their children than his partner, that was the way it's always been.

"Your hugging me." John said quietly under his breath, not aware that Sherlock had heard it.

"Shut up." Sherlock said, smiling as John wrapped his arms around in return. 

"So are we...y'know doing this now?" John asked his fingers messing through his partner's curls. Sherlock looked up, burrowing his brows thoughtfully, before removing his arms. Sherlock sat up abruptly and looked at him like a kicked puppy.

"No. No it's alright, Sherlock." John said, widening his arms for Sherlock to come back. He did so slowly, hugging in closely to John. He took a deep breath, breathing in the scent of John.

"Oh, by the way." John said, not a moment or two later. "One of the new surgeries have offered me a GP position." Sherlock looked up at him, before nodding.

"Good." Sherlock said. "You need entertainment, and plus, they'll be needing all the help when that virus gets here from China."

"If." John added looking at Sherlock before they both gave a little chuckle. It died down a little and dropped to another bout of comfortable silence.

"Your parents." Sherlock said, catching the other man off guard. Normally a random thing to come out his beloved's mouth was not unusual, but when it contained the subject of his homophobic parents then it did come as a surprise.

"Yeah?" John asked, before looking down at Sherlock.

"Rosie..." Sherlock began but stopped himself, before looking over to the other side of the room. "Rosie claims she doesn't like them." 

"I wouldn't be surprised if she didn't." John said quietly, before looking at where Sherlock was sitting up against the head board. 

"Are they...I mean....are they coming to the wedding?" Sherlock asked, the silence drawing out between them. "Do you want them there?" 

"I don't..." John said, pausing as his throat became choked up. "I don't think I do." Sherlock looked up at him with his maddening blue eyes before smiling lightly, John returning the smile. 

"You know, for the first seven years of Atlas' life, I wasn't really around." Sherlock said quietly. "Maybe if I had been, the remaining nine may not have been quite as shit."

"You did what was best at the time." John comforted, carding his hands through his hair. He rubbed his hand over Sherlock's back - his fingers gracing the scars gently - before the other man sat up and looked at him. Their temples rested against each other as Sherlock closed his eyes, a silent tear falling down his cheek. "Oh, love." Gently, he put a hand to his cheek and rubbed a thumb over his tear. "Stop worrying so much." There was a pause. "Just talk to me, I don't care what it is, just tell me. Anytime. Anywhere." His hands moved to the man's neck, and their foreheads pressed together again. And Sherlock realised, this is what being in love feels like.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At least it wasn't Atlas greetin in this one.


	35. Stopping Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Character had an Abscence seizure.

"WE'LL have to leave early tomorrow so we can do it all in one." John said, sighing running a hand over his face. He looked over to Sherlock who nodded in agreement as he helped his partner clean up the dishes in the kitchen. Their time at the house was nearly over and currently they were discussing plans for leaving tomorrow.

"You know." Wanda supplied as she entered the kitchen. "If your struggling to get back all in one day, you can always stop off at ours on the way back." John turned around to look at the woman, who appeared to be very serious about the question. "I haven't asked Mycroft and Eurus yet, but I suspect they'll want to get away - you know what Myc is like." Wanda sighed looking over to her son, who smiled in return.

"If it's not-" John began but stopped himself when he received a pointed look from Wanda. You really shouldn't mess with that woman when she makes up her mind. Beside him, Sherlock smirked as they faced Sherlock's parents. "Alright."

"John." Mycroft said as he entered the kitchen, his face painted with concern. "Something's going on with Atlas." John looked at him confused before his face flickered in realisation and he put down the tea towel he picked up. Then he followed Mycroft through to the living room where Atlas was sat looking straight ahead, her eyes devoid of emotion. She'd been reading with Rosie, who had since gotten up and moved away from Atlas just in case. Rosie had been warned about these moments that Atlas experienced.

"Do we follow?" Wanda asked but Sherlock shook his head. 

"No." He said quietly, looking over at his parents and now Eurus who had just come in the back door. 

"Are you deducing again?" Wanda scolded as Sherlock nodded his head remorsefully.

"Yes. And that means I know she doesn't need us crowding her." Sherlock said quietly, leaning back against the counter.

"Atlas." John said kneeling before her, looking into her eyes. 

"What's going on with her?" Mycroft asked flustered as he looked around the room. 

"Go back into the kitchen." John said sternly, before looking at the man again. "Mycroft!" John shouted before the man scurried into the kitchen.

"Mycroft?" Timothy asked looking at his eldest son as reappeared. "What's wrong?" 

"She's just staring into the distance, like not even seeing anything." Mycroft said, Sherlock sighing and just putting fingers on either side of his nose. 

Then a few moments later, there was mumbled speech as Atlas 'came back'.

"Are you feeling alright today?" John asked putting a hand on her shoulder. Atlas nodded before looking at him softly.

"John." She said, her voice hard. "I don't think the medication is working properly." Admittance flowed through her voice.

"It's only one." John said, rubbing her knee. Her face was fallen and soon his did too. 

"No." Rosie said quietly looking at the floor, then she looked at her dad. John looked back to her.

"It's not more than one." John sighed. "Is it?"

"No." Atlas whispered. "I had one in the car on the way here. I didn't even realise, I'm sorry."

"No. It's alright." He said. "When we get home, I'll get you a GP appointment."

Atlas nodded before rising to her feet, gathering a steady grounding. 

"You good?" John asked quietly, Atlas looked at him. There was fear in her eyes. "Do you want to go to your bedroom for a little while?" She looked at him before nodding, she didn't want to be fussed, that could make her feel even worse. "Alright. We'll call you for tea." 

"Okay."

"What happened?" Wanda asked coming into the living room to see John reading with Rosie. John sighed but before he could answer Sherlock interrupted.

"A P or a G?" Sherlock asked.

"A P." John responded looking over to Sherlock who sighed. He sat down next to John who had Rosie on his lap.

"I moved." Rosie said quietly.

"I know. That was good remembering what we told you." John smiled, the little girl smiling back at him. 

"And I moved the table." She whispered, cottoning on to why her parents were keeping their voices low. Sherlock smiled before putting a hand on top of her head and stroking a hand down to her back.

"You two are avoiding the question." Wanda said sternly looking over to John who shrugged in response. 

"Not for us to say." John answered. "Asking her will only make it worse." Wanda did her scowl before Timothy told her to leave them be. 

A while later Sherlock looked over to John before they glanced at the clock. John shifted a giggling Rosie over to Sherlock as he got up and ascended the stairs to see to Atlas.

"Oh." Atlas said from her position sat on the floor. She had her phone on it's side with a piano app, to her left was a pencil case with some pens and pencils inside, to her right was a notebook with some scribbles that looked like letters with what John had learned to be sharps and flats. Then there were m's next to some of them, John knew that this meant minor. He knew a thing or two from Sherlock and Atlas' morning conflabs.  
"Hey."

"Hey." John said, closing the door softly with a click. He came down opposite Atlas and saw that she had brought both her messy song book and her neat one. "What are you coming up with?" 

"I don't know." Atlas said as John sat down opposite her and she looked at her in the eyes. "Experimenting with chords outside of the traditional I, IV, V, VI."

"I'm not going to pretend I know what that means." John laughed before Atlas handed him the neat book of songs. 

"You can read them, look at them if you want." She smiled. "Dad hasn't seen them, I know they will break him. He'll berate himself and blame himself. And then he'll go all robot on us." She chuckled, John doing something similar as he took the book and opened it. Carefully, he opened the book glancing over a few dated early before coming to the more modern ones.

"Your inspiration comes from everywhere." John said, Atlas looking up from where she had been messing around with some chord patterns. 

"Yeah. 'Spose it's the whole observation thing. This is how I release what I feel." Atlas said as she continued to tap. 

"Why didn't you mention that the seizures had infact gotten worse?" John quizzed Atlas looked up suddenly, before frowning.

"Because I can't understand why they would be." She whispered, choked up on threatening tears. "I hate not being able to understand." 

"I know." John said reaching out a hand and squeezing her shoulder. "Can I hear the one your working on?" Atlas' face flickered and registered multiple emotions.

"Alright." She said quietly, holding out her phone and preparing the sheets of paper inside her messy notebook. "It's about - well I'll let you decide."

Atlas began to tap out a sort of pattern into her phone before looking up at John from her phone. He nodded and she began to sing.

_I'm sorry for what I'm about to say  
I just can't really see any other way  
But this time, I hate to say I'm afraid  
Of getting caught in a place I can't escape _

Atlas looked up at John, his lips were pursed tightly together as he listened. 

_I can't get my mind straight  
I lost you it must have been our fate  
And I wonder if you know where I'm going to?  
People tell me it's about time I let go of you. _

Next Atlas saw that John was moved, she began the build up melody for the pre-chorus - hitting a few wrong notes on the small device but John didn't seem to notice.

_But I hate the feeling and I can't let go of you,  
Your breathing, I'll be here right through. _

John looked away as Atlas continued into the chorus. She was unsure if she should but she did, treading lightly.

_I hate the shadows that surround your face  
I hate the noise that surrounds our place  
And I wish we could go, home to our peace  
But I know you've not gone to sleep.  
Your never waking up from your dream. _

Atlas looked up to see that John had tears in his eyes. She continued to play before adding:

"I can stop if you want."

"No, no continue."

_Was this all imaginary?  
We hadn't even reached the top of our tree  
You and me had so many possibilities  
Just hold on please._

She looked up, a lone tear falling from John's closed eyes.

_But I hate the feeling and I can't let go of you,  
Your breathing I'll be here right through._

_I hate the shadows that surround your face  
I hate the noise that surrounds our place  
I wish we could go back to our peace  
But I know you've not gone to sleep  
Your never waking up from your dream _

The chords then changed, surprising John as the melody turned brighter and happier (in musical terms major.)

_Is it nice? Is it nice? Wherever we go?  
I think it's right, I think it's right that I get to know._

_Is it nice? Is it nice? Wherever we go?  
I think it's right, I think it's right that I get to know._

_I hate the shadows that surround your face  
I hate the noise that surrounds our place  
And I wish we could go back to our peace  
But I know you've not gone to sleep  
Your never waking up from your dream _

Just as the long song was coming to an end Atlas looked up to see John with closed eyes, still listening to the song.

_Your never waking up from your dream  
And now I'm joining you it would seem  
Someone whispers...sweet dreams. _

Atlas stopped tapping out chords as John opened his eyes looking at her. 

"It's.." He began but was stopped by the choke rising in his throat. "It's beautiful Atlas." 

"What do you think it's about?" She asked as she changed the pages in her messy book.

"I attached it to personal connections. Losing Mary and the people over in Afghanistan." John sighed. "You?"

"I don't know." Atlas said quietly. "It's as if someone is about to commit suicide or about to die and they are transported back in time to when they lost a loved one and is talking about what it was like." Atlas sighed. "At least, that's where my head was when I wrote it." She looked over to John and smiled before putting down her phone and lurching towards John. She squeezed her arms around his shoulders and he smiled before burying his head in her shoulder.

"Thank you." Atlas said quietly, squeezing slightly as she spoke. She drew back and looked at him. "I hate to say."

"I think I'm afraid." John finished before just looking at her. "Your afraid that the medication not working means something serious." He looked at her before Atlas nodded, sniffing before hugging John again. 

"Please, if I ever say something I shouldn't." Atlas began. "Don't take me seriously." John gave a little chuckle as he rubbed her back.

"Where'd that come from?" John asked pulling away to look at her softly.

"Oh I don't know. Probably because I'm a Holmes and unpredictable is in the job description." 

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

LATER Atlas came downstairs and saw the family sat in different places. She sat next to Sherlock and leaned against his shoulder, he responded by wrapping an arm around them.

"Thank you by the way Ro." Atlas said looking over to her, she nodded before looking over to her family members who looked as if they were trying to figure it out. She knew everyone wanted her to speak so she searched desperately for a way out when her eyes fell on the three violins.

"Shall we play Slow Seasons?" Atlas asked referencing the duet they had just finished the other day. She looked at her dad expectantly as she awaited an answer, however, he nodded giving her the conclusion. 

They began to play the piece, Atlas' mind becoming preoccupied by the melody which had to be complicated in order to sound effective. She looked over to Sherlock who just nodded in response. She looked out across the grass over to the river at the bottom of the garden as she played before the song ended and she put down her violin. Maybe it would all get better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If any of the lyrics through this is used for an actual song that you write, then please just don't. I actually wrote these songs, the lyrics mean a hell of a lot to me because I'm going through (hopefully the last of) a long line of shit. Lockdown is not bothering me. And nor is Coronavirus. I have just lost a lot in a very short period of time, and my songs are my emotions and how I describe it.


	36. The Vault

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lot of swearing in the next few chapters guys.

ATLAS woke, her eyes remaining closed as she attempted to sit up however there was something preventing her from being able to do so. Running a hand over her forehead she put a hand out and traced the material that ran under her fingernails - wood. She sniffed and smelt the smell of fresh earth and damp, she strained her eyes but realised she was surrounded by darkness. Next, she began to think about what she could remember. 

It was morning. No, no it was evening. Midnight. Exactly midnight. Everyone had gone to bed early. She was still at the lodge, they'd been there nearly a week. Now, as clear as day she heard Rosie's screams before nothing. Slowly, she felt her neck. Tranquilizers. Brilliant. Just brilliant. Now, she just wondered where everyone else had gotten to and prayed that she wouldn't run out of oxygen in there. Out of nowhere there was a low buzz - as if a microphone was turning on.

"Don't scream." A distorted voice began, before breaking. "I have a lethal injection waiting for you. The exact right amount. Or maybe I'll wait and see if he can get to you before you either suffocate or die from an injection. Either would be nice to watch."

_Oh shit._

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

MYCROFT sat up sharply, looked around the room he was within before rubbing his forehead. To his right he saw Eurus sitting meditatively on a cement bed. 

"Well hello Eurus." Mycroft said standing up onto his feet. He wobbled before regaining balance and moving to sit next to her. He touched against her shoulder and she abruptly opened her eyes. Mycroft hissed as he moved his neck, placing a hand against the back of it.

"Tranqs." Eurus replied before looking at his neck, putting a hand to it and removing a snapped piece of needle. "That's how fat your neck is." Mycroft shot her a look before they both glanced over the small grey concrete room. This was not good.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

ROSIE looked around the room wide eyed. This wasn't where she was when she had last opened her eyes. They landed upon a table with puzzle pieces and pictures of people and knives and countries all across the world. Tentatively her little legs wobbled their way over to the table and she looked at them. A hand clasped over her chin, she frowned, elbow on table. She didn't cry, she didn't scream. Much to their dismay, Sherlock and John had decided to teach her what to do in similar situations. _Be curious. Be Rosie. Be cute. Puppy dog eyes._

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

JOHN woke up a moment or two later than Sherlock who was tracing the walls with his fingers in desperate search for an escape. Then in frustration he kicked it blindly before looking back over to a bemused John.

"Tranqs." They said at the same time before Sherlock offered John a hand and helped him to his feet. Just then over to the side there was a flicker of a screen that showed a coffin with Atlas' name enscribed, a sliding piece of wall unveiling a tunnel for passage. John exchanged a look over to his partner who shook his head. As he did so another door opened, this time the screen showed Rosie in a room alone, with a puzzle to solve. Another one of those messed up ones that could result in innocent people getting killed.

"Well what do we do now?" John asked looking over to Sherlock for guidance. 

"We have to be sensible." Sherlock said. "We have to choose right otherwise we might all die." John nodded before looking back up at the screen of Rosie. 

"No shit Sherlock." He looked at his partner, before up at the screen of his daughter. "It's a murder mystery." John said, finally, the silence filling the gap. "You have to go to her." Sherlock sighed before looking back at John who was already heading for the door that would lead to Atlas.

"I have Atlas. I'll always have her." John said before nodding and both men went into the doors, the room becoming empty.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

"WANDA, love?" Timothy said earning an 'mm?' from his wife. "Where are they all?" 

"Probably out walking Redbeard." Wanda hummed, looking over at Timothy before spotting Redbeard. "Or not." 

"What mess have they got themselves into this time?" Timothy sighed punching the bridge of his nose. They knew better than to intervene.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

HEAD. Her head was beginning to hurt, her breaths were beginning to be erratic. She was going to panic, that was no way her forte so she just remained calm. If this was death then so be it, she'd stared at it on occasion before so so what if it was now. In fact, she was ready. 

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

"LET'S see how you two work as a team, shall we?" The speaker said to the room containing Eurus and Mycroft together. They looked each other before the floor disappeared into a maze of steps and stairways. 

"Which way first?" Mycroft asked before Eurus started off down a set of stairs. "Right." 

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

"WELCOME." A voice said as John appeared through the door. Within the cement floor there was a deep mound of dirt encased in the flooring, as if you could be walking on cement and then suddenly on earth. He looked round the room and saw a shovel placed off to the side, his eyes went angry before be conjured up the courage and found the words he needed.

"You sick bastard." He said under his breath, before collecting he shovel and digging. Digging until his hands hurt, the skin on his palms peeled, digging until he couldn't take big enough breaths, till he was too warm, digging until he hit something hard. Scraping round the edges he found the lid for the coffin and tried to clear out the name. It read her name and he began to work faster and faster. 

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

_SILENCE. Atlas couldn't hear a sound. Her lips were dry and her oxygen supply depleted. So this is what it's like, she thought, nice._

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

"ROSIE?" Sherlock said loudly as he entered through the door. His eyes landed upon her before he walked over. "Rosie? Are you OK?" She looked at him before nodding. "Okay, alright then. Let's solve some problems and save some lives." 

He assessed the photos, swiping them around with his fingers before looking at one in particular. He assessed it before Rosie jumped up onto the table and sat down next to some more.

"Botswana. India. Democratic Republic of Congo. Egypt. Portugal." She whispered before stopping and looking at Sherlock. He smiled at her before he looked at some more of the photos, this time more closely, before realising upon something. He saw the knife recurring through each picture before glancing at Rosie who was prodding various countries on the printed map. 

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

ARM. Her arm _fucking_ hurt. Dislocated. Not sure when that happened. Heart rate: erratic. Not good for the seizures. Medication: not working. Rosie: screamed. Where? The lodge. John. Sherlock. Eurus. Mycroft. Wanda. Timothy. Redbeard. Atlas. Atlas. Breathe. Not too much. About that. It'll be okay. It'll be okay. It'll be o-

"So goodbye yellow brick road." Atlas sang before the low buzz returned. Her thoughts had been drifting all over the place, her head was thumping. She couldn't keep a track of what she was thinking and the thoughts that did come were all so _loud._

"As long as you don't scream, singing is still permitted." It rang. "I like it when the dying sing." Atlas gave a sigh before desiring to continue.

"Where the dogs of society howl, you can't plant me in your penthouse, I'm going back to my plough." She continued before the oxygen began to run out even more. "So goodbye -"

A jab in her back and she was out. Cold. The world seeping to a blacker black than the one she was in.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

"ATLAS." John said before ripping off the lid of the coffin. "Atlas." And then he stopped. A blue body that looked like Atlas was peacefully sleeping. He pulled her out with a heave, a cry escaping from his throat. He ran his hand over the sides of her face, slapping them quietly.

"Wake up. Wake up." He said lying her down on part of the cement. "Come on. " He put his ear down to her mouth and heard there was no breath. He checked the pulse. Nothing. Nothing at all. "No. No. No." He sobbed before pulling her into his arms and crying over her body. He clutched her to his chest, his mind running through all those memories with her. She was as much his as Rosie and he was trying as hard as possible to fight the tears. He couldn't tell how long he was sat there it could have been hours or minutes he couldn't tell. His daughter was dead. Dead as the murder victims he'd uncovered. Dead. D. E. A. D. _Dead._

He thought of her playing duets with Sherlock, the songs she wrote becoming the melody's of her heart. The way she waltzed round the room with Rosie at christmas, the lights in the background. How funny she was and how much of a brilliant mind she had. How quick she was to pick things up, to love. And oh how she loved people. Another sob came out his throat as he just clutched at her cheek, a tear falling onto her blue face. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry." He choked, thinking of all the times again and more. Books & Beans. 

And then what he felt stab him hardest was thinking of the future she would never have. How beautiful she would look at her wedding. How proud himself and her father would be of her. How pretty her children would be. How much of an amazing musician and writer she would be. How much of an amazing wife, a daughter, a mother, a sister. He rested his forehead against hers in desperation.

Eventually, he did the last thing of hope he had in him and opened the eyelids of her. Wanting to see her eyes just once more before reeling. Brown. They were brown. Atlas wasn't brown eyed.

"This -" John said before tossing the not-atlas corpse to one side. "What the hell have you done to her?"

"Charming affection." The voice said. "Maybe I'll kill her so I can watch it again." There was a brief pause - most likely for dramatic affect but John just found it annoying. "Or maybe I'll wait and see if you can get to her in time." Just as the last words were released the wall slid to reveal what must be about a hundred fake graves. John sighed before kicking the wall to his left. Then he went in search of Atlas. _His_ Atlas.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

"WHAT are we looking at Mycroft?" Eurus asked her brother who was stood next to her. 

"The Vault." Mycroft sighed before walking towards it, stopping when he touched a glass pane.  
"Welcome to the maze, where they keep the Vault."

"Why does whoever this guy is called -" 

"Let' call him Buzz Buzz Man." Mycroft laughed before Eurus shot him a not-funny look and he stopped.

"Buzz buzz man want us for?" She asked looking over to Mycroft.

"Neuclear weapons and weapons of mass destruction." Mycroft said before he looked over to his left, another pathway being revealed. He exchanged a look with his sister before they headed down the route. "We're in the Vault."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Totes emotes.
> 
> Dear God, kill me now before it's too late. 
> 
> This actually had a load of editing so it was better.


	37. Knife Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before everyone gets too excited. 
> 
> It's not Moriarty. I repeat it is _not_ Moriarty. 
> 
> Sorry.

"ATLAS!" John screamed, his voice bouncing off the concrete walls. "Atlas!" This time he sobbed as he screeched for her. 

"Tick tock tick tock." 

"Shut up." John said.

"Tick to-"

"Shut the hell up." John shouted, before silence. He looked over the dirt on top of the multiple graves. He looked for any sign of something abnormal that may elude to being Atlas' grave.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

SHERLOCK looked over the files some more before Rosie shrieked as a buzz happened.

"Knife time." The voice said prompting Sherlock to pull Rosie to his chest before wrapping his jacket round her in preparation for flying knives. 

"No flying knives." The voice said, before Sherlock put her back down on the table. "Make a knife shape out of countries."

"What the?" Sherlock asked, confused as he looked down at the young child.

"Make a knife."

"Madagascar." Rosie said quietly pointing at the country. 

"The handle." Sherlock said before Rosie nodded.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

IT was sudden when John saw it, a slight discolouration. He had already attempted three coffins with little succession when he saw the dirt. Just slightly darker in colour than the rest. He called upon the Holmes in him, all the things Sherlock had been berating him on for years. He walked slowly over to the dirt, shovel in hand. 

"Please please please." He said to the sky before beginning to dig at the earth. The skin on his hands peeled more, splinters digging it into his skin before finally hitting the coffin. He dragged the dirt around some more before finally revealing the coffin lid. He pulled off the coffin lid before finding her. Her mouth dropped open slightly. He ran a hand over his eyes before pulling her out. This time there was breath. Checked her eyes and there was movement - most importantly they were the colour of eyes she shared with Sherlock. A sedative. She was alive and alright.

He scooped her up bridal style and looked at the ceiling. "What now?" Before long another door opened and he lifted her through into another cement room, cement beds fashioned to the wall. However, John opted for the floor before hugging her close to him until she would awake.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

"SO, your the government." Eurus said quietly as they slipped down a pathway she was sure they had already been down. 

"Well observed." Mycroft interjected.

"Why would someone want a neuclear weapon?" Eurus asked before looking over to her sibling who shrugged. They went around the maze aisles trying to get there. "Then how come your the government?"

"How come your insane?" Mycroft shot back quickly as they attempted to go down yet another path he'd already been down.

"The way we were brought up, huh? So unfair." Eurus smirked before she realised they'd been down that path already.

"You know." Mycroft said, Eurus rolling her eyes as she realised he was about to begin wittering again. "You'd be good as a quadruple agent, maybe pentuple or maybe sextuple."

"What the hell Mycroft?" Eurus sighed, looking at him exasperated.

"'Cause I never know who's side your on." Mycroft said quietly.

"Maybe because I'm on my own side." She said before heading off down another corridor, Mycroft following on interestedly.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

"ADD Italy here, Sweden, Norway." She said as a pair of scissors were dropped through the ceiling onto the table. She looked at Sherlock before nodding as they assembled a look a like knife.

"I'm concerned about why we're doing this." Sherlock mumbled so Rosie didn't panic, but of course she heard it. Glue was dropped almost immediately after and Sherlock assembled it on the back of a piece of paper.

"Now, if we are done playing children's games-" Sherlock began but then the speaker spoke.

"Whoever said this was a children's game?" The voice asked before flickering an enormous projection onto the wall. Hundreds of people each in representation of a country. And each country that made up a piece of their knife had someone shot.

"Rosie." Sherlock said to the little girl who was trying to strain her eyes away from the projection. "Rosie look at me." She looked at him with innocent blue eyes. "Keep looking at me." There was a wail from the projection speaker and Sherlock jist held Rosie to his chest in desperation to protect her from the noise. "Alright." He whispered before finally the projection shut down.

"Tick tock." The voice projected again, before another door opened. "No more child games." Sherlock gingerly went through, clutching Rosie's hand tightly in his own. John was protecting their other daughter, now he has to focus on keeping Rosie safe. 

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

JOHN had moved Atlas onto one of the cement beds when she hadn't woken to give his legs a bit of a stretch. When his back was turned Atlas' eyes flickered open as she winced in pain. Carefully, she got onto two wobbly feet that eventually grounded and she stood at full height. Her eyes were blurry from the sedative and her arm hurt like hell.

"Pa?" She tried to say, no-sound coming out, John was in coherently whispering something. The use of Pa was not common for her, she used John more, but right now? Right now Atlas needed him to be a pa. "Pa." She said regaining a little bit of speech. "Pa." It came out louder the second time, frightening herself. John swivelled round unbelievably fast and walked over to her.

"Atlas." John said placing his hands either side of her face. "It's John." 

"I can't see, Pa. Everything's blurry." Her voice came our a crackled sob as she looked at him. The look she gave John made him want to just hug her tightly and never let go because he knew. More than that he understood. He'd been with Sherlock one of times he had blurred sight and it freaked him. Losing his sight was something he wouldn't be able to handle and so by easy deduction he knew Atlas wouldn't be able to either. "Why can't - why can't I see?" She whispered, her eyes stinging as she strained her eyes to look at him. The blue eyes he had grown to love in both his better half and his daughter were shining with tears. His eyes were wide and his throat dry as he struggled to give her an answer. "Papa, please." 

He looked at her eyes like he would if she were a patient on the front before holding her unharmed shoulder. He chased away his thoughts about what she had called him before replying. "You were sedated." His throat swelled but he tried to not let it show - although it was a Holmes he was trying to keep it from. Atlas gave a curt nod before John placed a hand on her other shoulder. She hissed in pain and reeled back before he looked at her suddenly concerned.

"What is it? What hurts?" John asked before Atlas sat back down on the concrete and leaned against the wall. 

"I think my left arm is dislocated somewhere." She said through gritted, her arm sparking in pain. It hung limply at her side before she looked back up at him. Her vision clearing slowly.

"Let me look." He said before assessing it and realising it was her shoulder that had popped out. There were no pain killers but they both knew it would hurt less once it was back in. 

"Okay. This is going to hurt like hell." John warned, Atlas nodding knowingly before grabbed a firm hold on her arm. He gave a sigh. "Your not a fainter are you?" He checked before Atlas shot him a look. With all his fight he pushed hard and her shoulder gave an almighty pop. She let out a crying string of swear words and phrases that John would normally scold her on but knew he couldn't. Tears sprung in her eyes despite it feeling better. John removed his cardigan from under his coat and fashioned it into a sling for Atlas to cushion the shoulder till it wasn't quite as painful. 

"Hands, papa." She said before John put out his hands and she assessed them. They may be in some unknown place but she needed to check that her father wasn't in pain. Father. She smiled to herself before analysing his hands carefully. Before long she had pulled out various splinters that had occurred in his hands and checked the blisters - painful but John said he could manage them. 

"Thank you." He whispered before she nodded sitting crossed legged, John choosing to sit next to her, pulling her into his side - of course being gentle with her arm. He kissed her hair before lying his cheek atop her head. He wasn't going to mention pa, Atlas would do it again if she was comfortable.

Now all they had to do was figure out what the hell was going on?


	38. I Know Ida Atlas Elizabeth Holmes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a slightly longer one I think.
> 
> Also, I'm no doctor or physicist.
> 
> Warnings for vomit and near drowning. At this point, I keep forgetting to put these in but I think for the sequel to this I will only mention triggers if they are mental health based or vomit. I'm under the impression if you are here reading Sherlock fanfiction then you can probs handle gunshots and death.
> 
> Enjoy.

WHEN Eurus and Mycroft eventually reached the Vault they began the attempts of opening it. Eurus stayed quiet, observing, where Mycroft looked around the edges in search for a way in. It wasn't even difficult, which made it all the more confusing - not even dangerous.

Eurus spotted it first, the laser before realising that the requirement was to trip them all at once. Oh, far too easy. Suspiciously easy. They did so, lying objects of clothing in the right spots in order to trigger them. With a bellow of air and an interesting click the Vault opened revealing a concrete room. The room had concrete beds and was empty.

"So, nuclear weapons then." Eurus laughed before Mycroft shot her a look and they stepped through. The Vault door shut behind them as they went in. 

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

SHERLOCK and Rosie entered into a concrete room and stopped. Something wasn't right but before they could turn around the door shut behind them. He lifted Rosie to his side and held her near his chest, his heart beat steady in the young girls ears. 

After about three hours of sitting in the room for Rosie and Sherlock, three and half for Mycroft and Eurus and about half an hour for John and Atlas the concrete slid to reveal glass. It was infact not three little concrete rooms but one large one separated by glass. Eventually everyone was stood (barring Rosie) looking at one another. They didn't know where to begin.

"My shoulder dislocated." Atlas said when Sherlock looked at her shoulder. He just nodded in response before she looked over to Mycroft and Eurus. "Is everyone else alright?" She asked as everyone else nodded before Rosie gave out a little cry. Sherlock soothed her before looking back up to John.

"Oooh how fun!" The voice squealed suddenly, everyone looking to the ceilings. Sherlock put Rosie down as she went off to one side, trying to look through to Mycroft and Eurus. Before anyone knew what was happening Rosie was separated from Sherlock and Eurus seperated from Mycroft. "Felt like changing it up a little." The voice spoke again, somewhat excitedly. Rosie ran to Mycroft who lifted her up and held her close. Sherlock went to the glass and looked at Mycroft who nodded. Eurus stood on the centre, confused on what had just happened. Everyone was.

"I think you however Dr John Watson is the perfect team for Miss Ida." The voice said.

"How-" John began before Atlas put some fingers over her lips and told him to not ask. 

"Oh yes. I know Ida Atlas Elizabeth Holmes." A voice said, this time male as the ceiling opened to reveal glass and there was a man there. Lying face down causing Atlas to walk backwards and hit the cement wall at her back. Silence filled before Atlas came forward tentatively.

"Hello again dear." The man said before she scowled at him. 

"Neuclear weapons." Eurus whispered quietly. "The Vault is supposed to contain neuclear weapons." 

"Your looking at them." He said smirking as he stayed lying down. Everyone looked confused before Mycroft sighed and ran a hand over Rosie's back.

"We're the neuclear weapons." Sherlock whispered, before looking at the others. 

"Unfortunately it would seem that way." Atlas whispered, John being the only person to hear. He put a hand on her not painful shoulder gave a gentle squeeze before she looked up again. "So what do you want us to do?"

"Rob The Vault. The real one." The man replied, there was a thoughtful pause. "Although, not you." He said looking through the glass at Atlas. "I believe we have some unfinished business. Don't we?" Atlas gave a tentative nod before a door opened to her left. She went towards it before stopping in the doorway.

"Atlas." John said before walking towards her. "Be careful." She nodded once before disappearing into the black of a door leaving John alone in the seperated room. He kicked the wall hard - exasaserbating a groan of pain - before shoving his hands in his pockets and looking toward the glass ceiling. And not before long the man had disappeared leaving nothing. Then the water started.

Rosie and Mycroft's room began to fill with water, slowly but surely rising up and up and up. Sherlock and Eurus gave each other a look as John stood hunched over and defeated. His hands placed firmly on his knees as he let out a shaky breath. Briefly he looked up to see Sherlock looking a little beaten too, but not as much as he was sure he did. 

Mycroft was giving it his best effort to keep a frightened Rosie calm, hoisting her up on his hip. He'd long since discarded his blazer and umbrella, the water touching his knees. Under his breath - so his family did not hear him - he was whispering _I've got you, It's alright, I've got you._ Her fingers clung to his shirt as she lay her head against his neck.

"What are we supposed to do?" Eurus questioned, looking to the ceiling before back to her brother and their niece. The little girl was wearing her light blue jacket, Atlas her red - the two of them a perfect pair. Their minds focused for the youngest in their company for the time being - knowing that in time Atlas might just well need saving.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

"YOU know, if you wanted to talk to me, you should have just ambushed me in the street or something." Atlas said smartly as she walked into the room the mass of hallways led to. "For the life of me back there, I didn't know who the hell you were."

"Do you know now?" The man asked as he finally reappeared through a hole of concrete that had suddenly appeared.

"Mr Peterson." Atlas whispered quietly before she noticed his wife following in hot pursuit. 

"Sorry, _dear._ Didn't quite catch that?" Mr Peterson mocked before standing opposite her. A force from behind Atlas knocked her to the ground, the air rushing from her as she struggled to regain breath. 

"Mr Peterson and Mrs Peterson. Still married. Youngest child died. Eldest moved away, domestic abuse." Atlas said before her eyes went into horror. Slowly she was rising to her feet again, but kneeled taking a moment to gather back her breath. "You abused your own blood. What brand of sick bastard does that require?"

"Shut it. That's not what your here for." Mr Peterson replied sharply.

"No really. Think I might purchase one." Atlas smirked from the floor as she steadily regained her footing, two men wrestling her into a chair that had been placed behind her. She went willingly, already knowing how best to play Mr Peterson's game. But best of all, the girl knew how to win. 

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

"WEAKNESS." Eurus said as the water began to touch Mycroft's chest, he shuffled Rosie onto his shoulders as she held onto his forehead. Up there, she remained further away from the water. Safer for longer. "Look for a weakness." Eurus repeated after some time, looking an invisible entity on the concrete wall. Sherlock furrowed his brow in a way that would have been adorable had the situation not been life or death. "That guy. Whoever he is. He doesn't want us to die. Think about it. I didn't want you guys to die when I put you in that room, I just wanted to watch the show and watch you wriggle." The most the woman had said in some time, yet a point they all took seriously. "He knows we can figure it out."

"Look for joins." John said after some time. "Look for joins and outlines. Those are the weak spots." Everyone looked at him in surprise as he told them what they should do - except Sherlock. Their relationship had made the man soften slightly, not look quite as surprised when he said something intelligent. John didn't know it but Sherlock saw him as highly intelligent even after all the things he has done that Sherlock had done wrong. He considered him this way due to his ability to follow most threads of thought he would blab off and not disturb the sock index and help him keep it. "What? Just cause I'm not Holmes doesn't mean I'm not smart." 

"I didn't think you weren't." Mycroft said quietly before looking up to meet John's eyes.

"And I never thought you didn't have a heart." John said in return before Eurus broke them up with a snort and started looking for weaknesses that might go when the tank was full of water, and that was risky in itself. 

"There." Sherlock said after some time, the water now encroaching on his neck, sloshing around Rosie's feet. He pointed to a section of the glass before going back a little bit, removing his jacket. He ran forward and put his all his weight into a thump on the glass. There was nothing and everyone wondered what in God's name Sherlock was up to. He did it again, this time with more weight and closer to where the joint between the three pieces of glass were. By the third time he let out a cry of pain and held his hand inside his other, John going up to the glass. Before long Sherlock was at it with his other hand, Eurus cottoning on and making him move. 

"John." Sherlock said looking at him through the glass. "You need to do the same on the join at your side." John removed his coat, leaving him in just his shirt and thumped the glass before there was a crackle. The water was now sitting on Mycroft's chin. 

"Rosie. You need to take your coat off." Mycroft said up to her. "Do you think you can do that for me?" She looked at her dads, fear stricken before slowly removing her coat and dropping it into the cool water. Sherlock collected his and put it on, John doing the same knowing they would no doubt give them to the pair if they got out the cold water.When they got out the cold water.

"Rosie." Mycroft began gravely, the young girl shuffling on his shoulders. "You're going to have to take a really big breath soon. Okay?" The young girl understood her uncle wouldn't see the nod of a head so instead produced a thumbs up before his eyes. Mycroft gave a soft, half-hearted chuckle before the water started to swill around his neck.

"Float on your back, Ro." Sherlock said once she was being carried off her uncle's shoulder by the water. "Like Papi's been teaching you at the swimming pool." Sherlock exchanged a look with John who gave a short nod before looking back at fear at his daughter. 

"Remember, just relax." John said, Rosie listening as she floated effortlessly too on his back. "That's it. Good." He looked over to Mycroft who was still trying to keep his balance. "You too Mycroft."

The oldest Holmes child frowned at him in confusion. 

"Float." John said shortly. "You have to float." Mycroft begrudgingly did so as they started to reach the full capacity of the tank. The water speed increasing as they got closer. 

"Big breath Rosamund." Mycroft said as the girl listened to him taking a big breath and following his lead. However, the glass wasn't splitting. Mycroft leaving Rosie to hold her breath and sink down went to the glass and put all his weight into kicking it forcefully, once then twice then stopped. A crack and crickle and a flood of water at the ankles of two worried fathers, a worried aunt, a worried sister, a worried brother and a worried brother-in-law. Rosie's little body slid over crackled class as she opened her mouth taking in some water. It happened so fast and before she knew it was happening she was lying in the floor her dads looking at her and checking she was alright. Aside a scratch just above her left eye and a stomach full of water the young girl was alright. John looked at Sherlock. 

"Its normally for young children to cough or throw up in situations like these." John said before looking over to Sherlock who just nodded once. "If she starts coughing again in five or ten minutes after a long pause tell me." John rested a hand on his partners shoulder, the ground still wet beneath his feet. She was sat up near the wall on the incase she threw up. There was around two minutes and 24 seconds of coughing before nothing and Sherlock knew she was okay. A retching noise came from her throat and she pushed herself onto her knees. Sherlock lay a reassuring hand on her back before she emptied the contents of her stomach - which wasn't a lot - onto the floor of the cement room. The five year old gave a little cry and Sherlock rubbed a hand over her back, muttering quietly. 

His mind was running like a horse in a stadium. _It's alright. John said it was normal. John. John said it was okay. Shit, my hand fucking hurts. Better not use that hand until my doctor can look at it. John. John. I think she's okay. Rosie. It's alright. I'm here. Dad is always right here. Here. Here. I'm not there for Atlas right now. Here. Atlas. Where. Please be safe. Rosie. It's alright. She hasn't coughed. She's okay. She's alive._

"Dad." Rosie whispered pulling Sherlock out of his inner monologue. Sherlock stood to his feet taking her with him and surrounded her in Bellstaff. She was still wet but he didn't care, they moved away from the smell of sick and over to where his brother was sitting against the wall.

As soon as he had left Sherlock, John had scrambled over to Mycroft who had a laceration on his upper arm that was bleeding heavily. The glass still inside. In that moment the trauma doctor in him came through. He knew the risks of taking the glass out but he knew the equally worse ones if he didn't. In one movement the glass was out and the scarf that Eurus had been wearing was wrapped around the wound. The man below the doctor cries in pain before lying back and looking at the ceiling. At this moment, was when Rosie threw up, John looking back. All he had to see was Sherlock, gently rubbing her back and soothing her before he knew he could continue checking Mycroft over. He removed his own jacket and wrapped it around the man's shoulders who took it without argument. Eurus collected the umbrella, Rosie's coat and Mycroft's blazer before walking towards the centre of the room. The buzz returned.

"Once your all finished, the finale is about to begin."

Then silence.

•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

ATLAS woke up with a start, the artificial lights grated against the headache threatening to raise from her neck. She looked up, with no recollection of what had happened. Sedated most likely. She was only held to the wall by her wrists, a piece of rope skillfully knotted.

"Couldn't afford metal?" Atlas asked, her back stiffening as the room became occupied. Her eyes were still cloudy like they were earlier. The two men - she assumed from earlier - came through the doors before parting to allow a figure much like Mr and Mrs Peterson through.

"Rope reminds me of other times." Mr Peterson said before going over to a table, placed at the side of the room. There, Atlas could hear him pick up something. _No, not something._ The sound of a gun being loaded echoed through the room as her eyesight slowly came back into better vision. Let's not forget, the girl already wore glasses for reading and she secretly thanked the lord she left them at home like she normally did.

"Ooh." Mr Peterson said. "A gun would be fun." Her eyesight came back and she looked at him as he twirled it over one of his fingers. "We haven't used one yet." Despite this, he put it down and traced his fingers over more of the weapons. "However, I think we should go back to the good ol' faithful knife." 

"Did you make them rob the Vault?" Atlas asked inquisitavely before he laughed.

"An easy decoy." He smirked. "I wasn't going to do that. No reason to, if I had neuclear weapons I'd probably end up blowing myself up. No, no, I filled up what's her name, the little one. Rosie? Rosie was it?" He asked taking a few steps towards Atlas who nodded once. "Ah yes, the assassin's and war doctor's child. And the fat one. You call him the government. Yeah.Well, I filled their tank with water. Probs dead." Atlas looked at him like he was the most hateful person in the world. Behind her back, her hands began the fiddly untieing of her ropes, one hand quickly released. However, she kept it behind her back, eluding him and his wife to her still being locked up. 

He sauntered over to one of the guards who had come in with him. "Do you want me to stab you in the chest like this?" He shouted driving the knife into the chest of one of his guards. The other keeping his composure and remaining still. His eyes however, showed pain and fear. He knew he was next. Her other hand was now released, however, she appeared still tied. "Or slit your throat like this?" Mr Peterson asked as he dragged the knife across the mans throat once. There was nothing Atlas could have done for him and besides, that meant there were less bad guys to fight. He walked back towars her, his breath hot on her cheeks by the time he got up close. With one swift movement, knowing the wife was unlikely to stop her, she pinned him to the floor. Her fingers encased his throat and she pushed hard against it till she could almost feel his oesophagus closing.

On one side of the room there was a full wall length one way mirror. And on the other side the remainder of Atlas' family watched, Sherlock keeping Rosie's eyes covered. Mr and Mrs Peterson _wanting_ them to have to watch.

Atlas had him until she didn't, finding herself in the same situation she had put him in. The knife fell from his hands and rolled off to the side, near Atlas. She reached for it as he vision clouded again, the black threatening to arrive. She reached and she pushed and she pushed until at last she had it. In one sharp movement the knife was drawn across his throat, slipping his artery. Blood covered her clothing as he fell on top of her, her breathing ragged as she pushed him off the top of her. She looked down once at him frowning before back at Mrs Peterson. Innocent enough but still icy and she walked over, bargaining the loaded gun.

She placed it firmly against the woman's stomach. Something inside her burned in anger and she looked at the woman. The gun pressed her sternum and Atlas felt her hand shake. Yet, she knew she had to do it. She always knew who the instigator was. The cycle would repeat and in the moment she felt sorry for Mr Peterson who'd been manipulated, yet it was only a brief thought. He still did it.

"You don't have to." Mrs Peterson pleaded, the gun barrel digging into the flesh on her stomach. Atlas had fresh tears springing in her eyes, her family watching in horror from the other side. The teen was about to shoot someone. Normally Atlas showed more compassion but she couldn't. Not to the woman who sat by and let her husband abuse hundreds of innocent children.

"This is for Eustace and Isobel Peterson. And all the other innocents your tormented and killed in your basement." Atlas sneered before she was overtaking by a primal instinct and she pulled the trigger. She held the shoulder of the woman before she fell, immediate death overtaking her. The body fell and Atlas reeled back, the gun falling from her fingers as she looked to the mirror. 

She'd cracked. She'd gone insane. She was her mother. She'd become the very thing she didn't want to be.

_A psychopath._


	39. The Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written in script format.

**May 13th 2020**

DR FIONA HARPER: _Do you talk about the events with your family?_

ATLAS HOLMES: _No._

DR FIONA HARPER: _Are you afraid to discuss it with them?_

ATLAS HOLMES: _No._

DR FIONA HARPER: _I would like you to complete a diary every night before bed. I don't have to read it but it might provide some comfort._

**May 20th 2020**

ATLAS HOLMES: _Good morning._

DR FIONA HARPER: _Good morning. How are we today then?_

ATLAS HOLMES: _I have an outlet._

DR FIONA HARPER: _I don't follow._

ATLAS HOLMES: _My music. My pa called it my emotions. How I speak. How I communicate with the world when I can't speak._

DR FIONA HARPER: _And what have you written?_

ATLAS HOLMES: _I wrote 'Drowned At Sea.'_

DR FIONA HARPER: _Go on._

ATLAS HOLMES: _The lyrics in the chorus go like this: (singing) Cause it rises in my throat, and no one sees cause I'm not supposed to be, the one who can't breathe. And it captures me. I'm the one who struggles. Drowned at sea. Drowned at sea._

DR FIONA HARPER: _Have you considered performing it in front of your parents?_

ATLAS HOLMES: _No._

DR FIONA HARPER: _Do you want to?_

ATLAS HOLMES: _(Long drawn out pause.) Yes._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow more of her story in the next book of the collection: "Fallen Kings and the Same Old Things."


End file.
